


Free Falling

by abigailwarren74



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigailwarren74/pseuds/abigailwarren74
Summary: Foxxay AU. Misty Day found herself at life's crossroad at age 11 when her best friend, Cordelia Goode was brutally taken by an unknown man. They never found her. Almost 18 years later, now an attending surgeon at the St. Vincent Hospital in California, Misty finds herself attending to a patient whose overbearing "husband" is more than just a pain in the ass. What will happen when Misty recognizes Cordelia? Read notes attached to Chapter 1.





	1. Her Name is Cordelia: Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: All chapters of this story are works of fiction and are not intended to be used as guides. No copyright infringement intended. All character credits belong to the talented team of writers behind this series. Suitable warnings may not be in place so please read at your own discretion. Thank you and happy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Free Falling will have a slightly different structure: Odd chapters will follow the present, Misty finding Cordelia. Even chapters will follow the backstory, Misty losing Cordelia when they were younger. Happy reading!

__  
Yada... Yada… Yadaaaa….  


 

 

 

Misty continued to count sheeps in her head as the lady at the front yapped away about something regarding signs in kidnapping victims.

 

 

 

She had offered to take up the class together with her fellow colleagues Zoe and Kyle knowing full well that it would be useless for this was Southern California. Land of luxuries, home to celebrities. Unless a perpetrator wanted to be caught in action by the paparazzi round the corner, an idiot would know that Hollywood was the least ideal place to kidnap somebody.

 

 

 

Better luck elsewhere, Misty whispered to herself as she tried to listen to the lady who had caught her attention by saying that if they weren't listening for the past hour or so, they should probably listen to this.

 

 

 

"Now, I want you to remember that not all victims are always bruised and frightened. Some of them even seem attached to their captors. So I want all of you to go home with this in your mind today and I hope that it will one day help you save someone." the plump lady smiled as she finished, earning a couple of claps around the room.

 

 

 

Misty twirled her hair and shifted to pull it up into a tight ponytail as she exited the room, heading straight for her office. That was basically the most boring two hours of her life ever. 

 

 

 

She whistled along the corridors as Kyle sulked because he was down for the late night shift today. Late night shifts were probably the worst ever. Since her internship, she hated them. But now, after 4 years of medical school, 5 years of orthopedics residency, she was almost ready to take on a night shift willingly. But not just yet, she smiled as she parted ways with the blonde boy and trekked down the length of the hallway and into her office.

 

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

Dr. Misty Day returned to her office in the renowned St. Vincent's Hospital. She was the new  Orthopedics surgical attending here at SVH after finishing her 5 year residency program in Orleans Keller Hospital that was situated in the heart of the city of New Orleans.

 

 

 

She had originally decided to stay on to serve in Orleans Keller but the decision to move came after her father, Mr. Gilbert Day, CEO of Gilbert Firms & Co. passed away from a heart attack late into her last year of residency. There had been nothing that the city of New Orleans had to offer her apart from painful memories thus, she decided she had to move on.

 

 

 

Packing whatever she had left, together with the newly inherited money, she decided that she would move to the flashiest place she could think of. And that was the city of Los Angeles. Treating celebrities sounded pretty cool. Even though she had only come to Los Angeles for roughly half a year now, she was thoroughly loving her life. 

 

 

 

The Armani inspired apartment that sat along the luxurious Wilshire Corridor was what the Cajun and many celebrities called home. Sitting on the third last floor of the 22 story apartment block, her windows boasted a view of the country club and Hollywood hills. It had an open concept living area that was furnished with dark granite counters for the kitchen and tan colored sofas that formed the large lounge area. There were 3 bedrooms and two baths.

 

 

 

But that wasn't why the curly blonde had purchased this place. Rather, it was the 15 minute drive away from the hospital that had sealed the deal for her. 

 

 

 

Nonetheless, the traffic in this city made the usual 15 minute drive an elongated 45 minute one. Thus, as she clipped on her helmet and headed off for the night, she couldn't help but smile at the breeze that swept against her cheeks.

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

__  
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.  


 

 

 

Her pager went off aimlessly, snapping her awake from her slumber. She had to squint her eyes to confirm that it was indeed that  
__  
goddamned  
  
pager again.   
__  
Seriously?!  
  
Where in the hell was Kyle anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be down for night duty today?

 

 

 

She let her arms roam around the bedside table and tugged on the lamp string, lighting up a portion of the bedroom before slipping her legs over to the side of the bed so she could sit up in the semi darkness. Whatever time it was, it was way too early to be awake. Her shift today didn't start till 1pm! Her hand tapped around for her phone before finding it wedged between her pillow and comforter, successfully checking the time. 

 

 

 

4:54AM. 

 

 

 

It was really too early to be awake.

 

 

 

They were paging her 911. It must have been a serious accident. 

 

 

 

The wild blonde quickly scrambled to her feet, choosing to put on a pair of navy blue standard scrubs even though she much prefered her wine colored ones but there was no time to dwell on the color. Her keys jingled in her hands and she took one last look at the dark apartment before running back into her closet to grab a couple of hair ties, slamming the door on the way out as she put on her skechers shoes. And she picked up her bike, down the elevator, got a head start by running before jumping on the seat. 

 

 

 

By the time she had biked the 15 minutes, full speed to the hospital, the Emergency room was in a mayhem. All hands were on deck as they dealt with a Multi Vehicle Crash on one of Los Angeles' busiest highway. 

 

 

 

The wails of the sirens still lingering in the distance as they expected more casualties to pile in through those double doors. 

 

 

 

"OKAY. EVERYONE LISTEN HERE!" the wild blonde pulled her hair up into a loose bun as she listened to the head of trauma, Dr Jeff speak. The chaos seemed to stop in a split second, just to listen to what he had to say, "I want the non emergent patients to be cleared out of trauma rooms. I want scheduled surgeries that can be bumped, bumped for tomorrow instead. Casey, you call the ambulances and tell them to divert as many to UCLA. When family come, I want them in the waiting rooms. It's a busy night, now let's get moving." 

 

 

 

"Trauma 3 needs an Ortho consult!" one of the nurses yelled, waving the chart in the air. Misty weaved throught the crowd and acknowledged the nurse, nodding before moving to the side of the ER, getting herself gloved and tying the top strings of the mask as she approached trauma room three, chart in hand, using a pen to sign her name at the bottom of it.

 

 

 

"Hi, Mr. Renard, I am Dr. Day. And I will be looking at ya' leg," she flipped up the gauze to look at the bloodied thigh, as he gave out a loud hiss, "Which doesn't look very good but it shouldn't be a problem," she smiled, leaning over to whisper something into a nurse's ear. The nurse nodded and shuffled out of the room to proceed with Misty's orders. 

 

 

 

"Ok. We will be wheelin' ya' up ta' radiology in a short while but right now I need ta' do a full body work up," She checked something off his charts and hooked him up to an IV, "If ya' could jus' follow my light with ya' eyes?" 

 

 

 

He grunted in response, startling Misty slightly. 

 

 

 

"Can ya' feel this?" she tapped the bottom of the injured foot, he nodded hastily.

 

 

 

Swinging her stethoscope over her neck, she placed it on under his hospital gown, "Take a deep breath, in, out. In again. Okay that looks good. So, how did'ya get in ta' accident?" she asked, sensing he wanted to talk about it. Nurses buzzed about the room, hooking him up to all sorts of different machines. 

 

 

 

"When can we get home? We have important things on," he asked instead, eyes glimmering with anger. 

 

 

 

"Uh… Not so soon, Mista'. Ya' leg definitely needs surgery since it's an open femur fracture. We should be able to get ya' into surgery-"

 

 

 

A small gasp came from the side of the room.

 

 

 

It was then Misty noticed the woman. She was maybe 29, maybe 28, maybe younger because she looked so thin, and so frail like she was going to fall over any minute now.

 

 

 

"Ma'am? What are ya' doin' in here? Who are ya'?" Misty spoke so quickly. Her patient's privacy had just been breached by this… Lady who looked more frightened than anything. He blonde hair travelled beyond her breast bones in slight waves.

 

 

 

"Ma'am-" she tried again, moving over to the woman who stood there like a deer in headlights, looking past the doctor. Misty turned around and realised that the woman was engaging in a staring contest with the man.

 

 

 

"She's my wife," Mr. Renard growled, breaking the stare.

 

 

 

"Oh! Mrs Renard. The family waiting room is just a left turn if ya' exit from the ER into the main corridor. Why don't ya' go there an' wait?" she was in front of the woman now who then took a few steps back, almost disappearing into the walls. From there, she could see that Cordelia had a split lip and a small gash on her forehead. "Maybe ya’ should go to the ER instead, ya’ were in the crash too, huh? Ya’ should get checked."

 

 

 

Mr Renard stared hard at his wife, before exclaiming, "Oh no, she's staying with me. She's staying with me." 

 

 

 

"But-"

 

 

 

"I SAID SHE'S FUCKING STAYING WITH ME." he cursed loudly, startling Misty and the nurses, while the woman simply erupted into tears, hugging herself from elbow to elbow as she retreated further into the corner of the room.

 

 

 

"I will not have ya' talk to me like this. Mrs Renard please follow the Nurse Jenna to the counter and get another doctor to see to that. Sir, you an' I will have a nice talk up in radiology. Wyona, unlock the bed so we can move it. Mrs Renard, ya' husband is in safe hands, I will have someone update ya' on his condition durin' surgery, okay?" Misty attempted at brushing the woman's upper arm to comfort the woman but she simply flinched at Misty's touch, turning away quickly.

 

 

 

Misty drew back as well. Maybe she was just afraid of being in a new environment. Maybe she was afraid. Scared for her husband perhaps. The shock. It must be the shock. They had just been in a serious accident anyway. 

 

 

 

As she pushed the bed that contained the feral man out of the room, he shouted back to the lady, “DON'T YOU DARE TRY SOMETHING FUNNY. I will deal with you later.”

 

 

 

And Misty couldn't help but wonder if the woman was in an abusive relationship. 

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

While Mr Renard was wheeled into the CT room, Misty couldn't shake the thought of the woman of my mind. And the fact that he was asking about her every other second didn't help her forget that frightened image as well.

 

 

 

"WHEEERRRRE'S THAT BITCH?!" he shouted for what seemed like the millionth time. 

 

 

 

Misty closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Mr Renard, one more time. One more time an' I will see that ya' leg is a goner durin' ta' surgery later." 

 

 

 

His shouting was getting on her nerves, as well as the fact that he was calling that doe eyed woman a bitch, that just was too much. "NURSE! NURSE! SHE'S THREATENING ME!" he lifted his head up from the bed and yelled loudly and when no one replied to his demands, he opted to turn violent, thrashing against his bed. "WHERE'S MY WIFE. I WANT HER HERE WITH ME." 

 

 

 

Misty simply continued to ignore him, helping him from the bed and onto the board of the machine. He grunted in pain as they moved him before he tried again, "WHERE'S THAT FUCKING WHORE?!" summoning the remainder of his energy into pushing Misty off of him, causing her to fall backwards and crash into the wall. 

 

 

 

Misty was helped up by Nurse Jenna. She held her left wrist in her right hand, hissing loudly when the nurse uncovered it to reveal a growing bruise. Immediately, she knew she had sprained her wrist. Badly.

 

 

 

"Son of'a- Someone call security an' restrain him." she ordered firmly, glaring at the man who had caused her fall. Queenie the radiology technician had taken over, pressing him down onto the bench as she waited for security to arrive. Within a minute, the security team was up in radiology and had another team of doctors called up to take over from Misty.

 

 

 

Taking one last look before exiting the room, she saw the anger in his eyes as he once again shouted for his wife.

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

Jenna had braced her hand up nice and clean, bringing her a sling but Misty refused it, said it caused too much of an immobility. But with her hand injured, it wasn't like she could do much either. 

 

 

 

She joined Kyle in the ER, asking if there were any light jobs she could help with. After a lengthy explanation about what happened to her hand, her concerned friend told her that there was a woman waiting to get examined in bed five. Something about a slight forehead laceration and a split lip so she sauntered towards the bed. 

 

 

 

The wild blonde pulled the screen apart only to find the bed empty.

 

 

 

"Kyle? Where's ta' patient?" she popped her head out to talk to Kyle who shrugged, going back to his routine, leaving Misty all on her own.

 

 

 

"What did ta' patient look like?" Misty sighed, spinning Kyle around.

 

 

 

"Uhhh, blonde hair?" he said absentmindedly.

 

 

 

She huffed, and walked over to the front desk where the registration nurse was and asked for the chart for bed 5. Leaning over slightly, she reached for the chart from the nurse's hands and thanked her before moving swiftly out of the way of worried family members that were hounding the nurses.

 

 

 

The doctor made a left turn from the ER and into the waiting room. Perhaps her patient was here. When she flipped the chart open, only the last name and sex were filled in, Renard, Female.

 

 

 

Then it dawned on her that it was that mystery woman in the waiting room.

 

 

 

Her eyes scanned the entirety of the waiting room but failed to spot the head blonde.

 

 

 

She backed out into the hallway again and scratched her head, wondering where the nameless woman might be. And then she walked across the hallway, past supply rooms, checking each one to make sure the woman wasn't hiding in one of them. She even went into the toilets but with no luck.

 

 

 

But alas! Blue eyes spotted the young woman whose eyes were glued onto the vending machine as though she had never seen one before.

 

 

 

Misty quietly approached her, and said ever so gently, "Mrs Renard? It's Dr. Day." She was almost sure the woman was going to bolt but she remained still as a statue.

 

 

 

The woman didn't spin around to greet her with a wide smile, instead she continued looking at the very interesting vending machine. "Do ya' want a granola bar?" Misty said as she fished a dollar note from her pocket, inserting it into the machine and pressed the numbers, causing it to wind.

 

 

 

The woman remained mesmerized by it, jumping slightly when the bar dropped onto the shaft and Misty's good hand reached in to retrieve it. "Here," Misty smiled, passing it to the woman who looked wide eyed. She almost looked like a child that had lost her mommy somewhere along these corridors.

 

 

 

And then very softly, so softly Misty wasn't sure she heard it, the woman said, "Thank you." 

 

 

 

### 

 

 

 

The tall doctor ushered the shorter woman back into the ER, before bringing her further down the hall into one of the private screening rooms. Misty closed the door behind her as the woman took the first bite into the granola bar.

 

 

 

"That man must really starve ya', huh?" Misty said with an apologetic smile, "Ya' want ta' tell me anything? That man doesn't seem like a very good man." The woman took another bite of the bar without looking up.

 

 

 

"I'm Dr. Misty, by the way," she introduced her first name to the woman. And the woman's eyes travelled up and for the first time, brown eyes met blue ones. Misty smiled at the eye contact, "I'know, I'know, it's a weird name an' all-"

 

 

 

"No… I just… I think I had a friend named Misty too," she continued looking at the messy wild hair, "But that was a very long time ago," the woman spoke in a muted tone, "And I don't remember it all too well..." And her gaze fell between her thighs.

 

 

 

Misty beamed, "Wow'ya met another Misty? My friend's have such common names… there's Zoe… Kyle… Madison. Ugh. But a really long time ago, I had a friend. She had tis' beautiful name… She was a princess, y'know? Ya' kinda look like her. But that aside… " Misty continued her speech, "I'mma just do a routine check up on ya'? An' then we can fix up that nasty cut on yer' forehead, how does that sound? Good? Okay, I'm goin' ta' touch ya' now, but I'mma tell ya' what I'm doin'."

 

 

 

“Let's get ya’ changed into the hospital gown first? Can ya’ lift yer’ arms over yer’ head?” Misty said as she prepared the hospital gown. 

 

 

 

When she turned back around, the woman had placed the half eaten bar onto the bedside locker but remained unmoving. Instead, her big brown eyes were on Misty's black wrist brace, not looking up, she stammered softly, "Did he do that to you?" 

 

 

 

"This?" Misty waved her left wrist, "Yea, ya' husband's… Well, a violent one..."

 

 

 

"I'm sorry he hurt you..." she apologized quickly.

 

 

 

"Oh! It's nothin', really. If anythin', he should'a been ta' one apologizin'," Misty smiled, holding her wrist in the good hand, "But ya' know, probably ta' shock or somethin'. Though, seriously speakin', is he treatin' ya' right? Fifteen minutes wit' him an' I get injured. Ya' sure ya' okay?"

 

 

 

The woman looked up at Misty, deep into the blue ocean eyes. A sense of fear clouded the brown ones before she looked down again, whispering even softer than before, "I can't say anything..." Her pale forehead creased with infinite worry.

 

 

 

Misty took a good look at the woman then and there. Everything about her seemed so wrong. How her collar bones stuck through the long sleeved shirt. Her fingernails that were caked with dirt that seemed like she had been scratching at something. The emptiness in her eyes that seemed to hold so many well kept secrets.

 

 

 

The wild blonde grabbed ahold of the woman's hand, yanking the length of the shirt up, bunching it up at her elbows. And she gasped at what she had seen. 

 

 

 

All over, there were purple blooms flourishing like flowers in spring. 

 

 

 

"Mrs Renard! If he's abusing ya', why are ya' still wit' him? Ya' gotta leave him now. I knew he ain't a great man." Misty blurted as she examined the woman's forearm. She noticed that the bone was not straight, so she took out the orthopedic ruler and confirmed it was indeed bent at a three degree angle.

 

 

 

"Did'ya break yer' arm before?" Misty asked, pulling up the other sleeve to check.

 

 

 

The woman bit down on her lip, causing the split lip to open up again, a metallic aftertaste lingered in her mouth.

 

 

 

Just as the woman was about to answer, a foreign knock and voice interrupted them.

 

 

 

"Dr. Day?" A deep voice came from behind them. It was the LAPD. The policeman gestured for Misty to join him outside. "The woman you were treating is under custody for reckless endangerment of innocent lives." He said as Misty emerged from behind the door.

 

 

 

"WHAT?!" Misty exclaimed before covering her mouth with her hand, "What did she do?" she said in a softer voice.

 

 

 

"According to eyewitnesses, she had caused the man behind the wheel, Mr Renard to swerve out of control because she was trying to take control over the steering wheel." he stated matter-of-factly, "If you're done with her, we would like to take her back to the police station for further questioning."

 

 

 

"No, she's not goin' anywhere," Misty crossed her arms in front of her chest.

 

 

 

The policeman sighed loudly, "Doctor, if we could just seek your cooperation-"

 

 

 

Misty turned and walked back towards the bed promptly. "Mrs Renard, the policemen outside are here ta' take ya' away so if ya' don't start talkin' now, I gotta' let ya' go with 'em." 

 

 

 

The policeman had now made their way into the room, causing the woman to shrink further back into the hospital bed.

 

 

 

Brown eyes darted from the doctor to the two policemen and then back down again. "Please don't let me go with them," she plead as tears dripped down onto the bed, the white sheet changing into a translucent shade. She looked back up at Misty.

 

 

 

"I was trying to kill him," she exhaled shakily and her hand found the sheets underneath, creasing them in her death grip.

 

 

 

In a moment, the reckless driving case had turned into an attempted homicide

 

 

 

Before the policemen could open their mouths and say something, Misty put a hand up, stopping them. "Ya' had a reason. Tell 'em what yer' reason is. Has this gotta' do with ya' bruises? An' yer' arm not healin' well."

 

 

 

A small nod was all that was taken for reality to dawn on Misty. 

 

 

 

But the woman went one step further, pulling up her dirtied sweat pants to reveal shackle marks on her ankles, looking away as another tear dripped down onto the sheets, mumbling, "Because he said he was going to take another girl because I was getting too old and too used up… We were on the way to take the new girl… I wasn't trying to kill anyone… I was just trying to kill us."

 

 

 

Everyone was in shock now. 

 

 

 

One of the men in blue walked out and said something into the walkie-talkie. Misty was listening. He said something about finding out where the man was. And then something about abuse and abduction.

 

 

 

She tried to listen closely to what exactly he was saying but the woman opened her mouth to say something and now the doctor had her gaze on the woman who suddenly look so battered and bruised.

 

 

 

The doctor was prepared for more information to help nab the man but instead, the woman admitted, "Misty is such a nice name..."

 

 

 

The tall doctor took a long look at the woman, "Ya' weren't only abused. Ya' were kidnapped. That's why he was so unwillin' ta' part from yer' because he was scared yer' would run away." Misty stated as though it would help the woman realize too. In that moment, Misty felt like giving herself a slap across the face. Of course the woman knew she was kidnapped. She had spent god knows how many years living as a captive, fearing for her life. 

 

 

 

Then, the tall blonde was reminded of her friend. The one who was the princess to her knight. The one with the blonde hair and the brown eyes, the full lips and the gentle voice. The one who was so pretty, boys lined up to pass her confessions during valentine's day. The one who had gone missing 18 years prior to today. The one they never found. The one whom they somehow, somewhere along those 18 years, stopped looking for. 

 

 

 

"I wish that were my name," the blonde patient continued her previous statement, "He calls me Lynette," she whispered, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt before looking straight into Misty's soul, "But I'm sure… I'm sure it is Cordelia."

 

 

 

The one whose name is Cordelia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is coming out alright!


	2. 1410 Jackson Avenue: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder that this is an even chapter! (Refer chapter 1 notes) Happy reading!

There was something about that blonde girl Misty didn't quite like.

 

 

 

Maybe it was the way she flipped her hair. Or maybe because she was just such a girly girl. That girl, Corelia or Corrine, whatever her name, was dressed in a disgusting pink white striped sleeveless dress.

 

 

 

Misty on the other hand had her navy cargo bermudas that she obviously got from the boys aisle, paired together with a pale yellow round-collar polo her father had picked out for her to soften out the whole boy look. She wore her hair in her signature plaits that her Ma had tied for her, coming up to just below her shoulder blades.

 

 

 

It was the first day of pre K and they were just four years old.

 

 

 

Cordelia hadn't cried when her mother shooed her into the room and left immediately. Meanwhile, the curly blonde had screamed for her life as her mother, Indra Baudin-Day, forcefully peeled her tiny child's hands off of her thighs. It was a tearful parting but Misty soon sucked it up and headed over to the last table left at the back of the rom.

 

 

 

Misty sulked. She had been staring at that girl who sat across the rectangular table from her. That girl had literally every color in the world while Misty's Ma had opted to send her to school with a box of twelve. And she really wanted _that_ shade of purple, the one that was just peeping out of the box of 64.

 

 

 

"Ya' there," Misty's raspy voice huffed. The girl didn't respond. "Corrine," she called louder this time, waving her hands wildly in the girl's face, "Ya' give me those?"

 

 

 

Big brown eyes turned to look in the tiny blonde's way. "It's _Cordeli_ a," she clarified, looking into blue eyes. Both parties stared, waiting for each other. Cordelia waiting for Misty to ask again, this time with the correct name and please. Misty waiting for Cordelia to just quickly pass the crayon over already.

 

 

 

Cordelia tilted her head and waited until the wild blonde finally gave in, "Cordelia, ya' give me those? Please?" Misty said halfheartedly, slumping onto the table.

 

 

 

"Not give, Misty. I will lend it to you," Cordelia smiled, satisfied with Misty's pleading and pushed the box over to the slightly taller blonde who eagerly took up and started to scribble the purple onto her dragon that was made up of two ovals and a couple of triangles.

 

 

 

When she was done with the purple, it was blunt and ugly on one end. Not knowing where Cordelia had her sharpener in, she looked over at the girl who was intently shading a family portrait of stickmen with a peach colored crayon.

 

 

 

The curly blonde rolled her eyes and silently placed the purple crayon into its allocated slot before going back to her pack of 12.

 

 

 

Finally, after another fifteen minutes passed, their teacher, Miss Heather Crowley, their teacher, collected back their art pieces and placed them in one neat stack on the edge of her table. She told them that she would look through them and there would be a show and tell about it the next day.

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

"Lunch!" Misty exclaimed, searching through her lunch bag for something good. On Misty's menu today was the simple but lovely peanut butter and jelly sandwich that were cut perfectly into two triangles.

 

 

 

She lifted one slice up, admiring it under the light before subsequently taking a huge bite. While chewing, she looked across in Cordelia's direction. The girl was not eating.

 

 

 

"Coral why yer' not eatin'?" Misty stopped chewing.

 

 

 

"Because Mother didn't pack any for me," she said, looking down, "And it's Cordelia, Misty. C O R D E L I A," she spelled it out.

 

 

 

The taller blonde looked at the girl, stunned for a moment. How could someone's mommy love them enough to get them 64 pack crayons yet all the same time not love them enough to pack them lunch. Misty looked down at her grumbling stomach. She knew she was going to regret this later when she felt hungry, but in the spur of kindness, she had pushed her lunch box across the table, her entire tummy flat against the table and beamed, "Yer' can have my other half, Corelia."

 

 

 

Cordelia looked up and gave a half smile.

 

 

 

"I got yer' name wrong again," Misty frowned and the girl nodded.

 

 

 

"Cor _de_ lia," the girl repeated, "And you can take your sandwich back. I'm not all that hungry."

 

 

 

The taller blonde tested Cordelia's name on her lips, "Cor _de_ lia. Ya' take ma' sandwich. Ya' lended me purple crayon, I give ya' purple jelly sandwich!"

 

 

 

It was odd for Cordelia to make such a deep connection so quickly. But there was something about this curly hair girl whose hand was outstretched, lunch box in hand that attracted the usually shy _Cordelia._ "You sure?" she said softly, as if ashamed.

 

 

 

"Ya' have it," bubbled Misty, taking another large bite into her half of the sandwich. Cordelia noticed the way Misty's eyes glimmered in the afternoon sun. If you asked her, she would tell you that she was proudest of her brown hazel orbs that could speak their own language, even at four. But Misty's ocean blue ones…

 

 

 

They were more than just breathtaking… They were salvaging.

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

"Ya' there!" Misty shouted after Cordelia who was just about to leave the classroom, "Dee!" she called out again, reaching out for the blonde.

 

 

 

"Dee?" Cordelia stifled a soft childish giggle, biting down on her lower lip. Sure she had heard variations of her name. Delia, Cords, Cordie. But never the one that just slipped right of that Cajun's tongue. "Ya' name give me headache ta' remember. Dee is good. Dee short!" Misty perked as she joined the side of her new found friend, "Who bring ya' home?"

 

 

 

"Mother does," the shorter blonde said before getting on her tiptoes to look through the crowd of parents who had come to pick their children up.

 

 

 

Misty was about to ask Cordelia to point out which one her mother would be but the teacher's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

 

 

 

"Misty Day?" Ms Crowley's warm voice said gently.

 

 

 

For a moment, the Cajun thought she was in trouble. "Yes, Miss," she said timidly, tilting her face slightly before looking downwards. The pattern of the tiles suddenly felt so interesting.

 

 

 

"Your mommy called and she won't be able to come until an hour later, sweetie, why don't you come sit in my office?" the teacher gave a big wide smile to the young child, ushering her by the shoulders as Misty looked back at Cordelia whose mother too, did not make an appearance.

 

 

 

Misty's eyes never left her blonde friend, even when they disappeared into the staff lounge as Cordelia stood in the dispersing crowd, still desperately looking for her mother.

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

There was a soft knock on the door about a half hour later before it creaked open to reveal a disheveled Cordelia holding the hand of another teacher.

 

 

 

Ms Crowley took one look at the child who hiccupped once, still reeling in from her crying before quickly running over to the door to receive Cordelia from the other teacher Misty had never seen before. Between whispers, Misty heard the two teacher's conversing, "She was outside waiting for her mother." The brunette teacher heaved Misty's blonde friend onto her hip and paced around the room as the girl burst into wails once more.

 

 

 

"Mother- forgot- me," Cordelia spilled between sharp intakes of breaths, her mouth agape as she struggled to take in another breath.

 

 

 

"No, no, darling. No, no. It's alright. It's alright. No, no. Sweetie, come look! Misty's here. You are friends with Misty right?" the teacher shook the child up and down on her hip, pacing around in hopes the movement would calm Cordelia down, "Why don't we call Mommy. Let's call mommy. Will that make you feel better, sweetie?"

 

 

 

Between her ragged breaths, Cordelia still managed a shaky yes.

 

 

 

So the teacher paced back over to her desk and placed the crying child on the pine table, angling her in a way that she would be able to see Misty from the top. "Misty, why don't we show her your drawing of the treehouse?"

 

 

 

Misty took up her A3 piece of art between her two tiny hands and put it up for Cordelia to see. "This in ma' backyard," Misty smiled, "Yer' come over ta' play soon. Please?"

 

 

 

The girl in pink hiccupped and bounced on the table slightly, her big brown eyes found cerulean blue ones that were filled with genuinity and concern. Cordelia held her breath and gave two quick nods before hiccupping again.

 

 

 

Little miss curly blonde then stalked over silently with a chair to the front of the teacher's desk and placed her hands flat on Cordelia's thigh. Ms Crowley pulled the phone receiver to her ear as she looked at the interaction from the corner of her eyes, wondering what a four year old might have to say to her crying counterpart. What came next surprised her.

 

 

 

Misty placed the chair at the side of the table and got on it so that now she was at eye level with Cordelia and went on to push straight blonde bangs that had fallen over Cordelia's face during the fit, looping them delicately over the hiccuping girl's ears. Misty looked deeply into Cordelia's eyes, as if she were saying something to the girl that the teacher couldn't understand. It was a connection forming between two innocent children. A bond that cannot be broken.

 

 

 

And the curly blonde wrapped her long arms around the other one, pulling the teary eyed child into an awkward position. But that didn't matter. Ms Crowley lowered the ringing phone from her ear in disbelief.

 

 

 

They stayed like that, Misty's chin on Cordelia's shoulder and vice versa until there was another knock on the door.

 

 

 

Part of Ms Crowley's heart broke when Misty had to tear herself apart from Cordelia. She wished the moment would never end.

 

 

 

Misty's mother, in her full wine scrub suit stepped into the room, towering above all of them. The woman must at least be a 5'7. "Sorry Heather," a slightly lighter, more matured version of Misty's came floating out of the doctor's mouth, "A lady went inta' labor. Had ta' deliver." She smiled, slightly out of breath, "I rushed here as soon as I could. Hey, Mistybear! Yer' ready ta' go home?" she walked over to the table where Misty still stood on the chair, raised.

 

 

 

Her mother was a practising Maternal-Fetal obstetrician at the Orleans Keller Hospital. The doctor was better known in the city's hospital, by her maiden name, Dr. Indra Baudin and few people knew she actually shared a daughter with one of the hospital's board members, Mr. Gilbert Day, a generous donor of the hospital and also CEO to the Gilbert Firms & Co. She was of pure french decent, blue eyes alike Misty's. But her wavy titanium blonde hair was a significant shade lighter than Misty's dirty blonde curls that were now evidently inherited from the girl's father's dark curls.

 

 

 

"Who do we have here? Misty yer' got a friend, alread-" she stopped when she saw Cordelia's reddened features from the wailing and Misty's slightly damp shirt, "Oh, honey, what's yer' name?" the woman asked as she picked Misty up and placed her on her hip, just as the teacher did for Cordelia a while ago. "Boy, you're gettin' heavy, my little Misty." the mother said before placing a heavy kiss on her daughter's cheek.

 

 

 

The tiny blonde didn't reply Indra's question.

 

 

 

"Why  
  
is  
  
she still here?" dark blue eyes turned around to look at the teacher and asked pointedly in a no nonsense manner.

 

 

 

"We were unable to contact Mdm Goode, unfortunately," the brunette teacher said, looking to Cordelia, unsure of what to do about her.

 

 

 

Indra arched one side of her eyebrows and ran the name Goode through her mind… She was pretty sure the girl looked slightly familiar. "Sweetheart, what's yer' name?" she asked once more, walking back towards the table.

 

 

 

"Cordelia, Ma. Me call'her Dee!" Misty chanted, bouncing up and down on her mother's hip, wanting to be let down.

 

 

 

"Ah, Cordelia!" the woman exclaimed as she lowered Misty down onto the floor, her gaze never leaving the straight blonde, "Did I just come across a princess?" she humored the little girl who looked at her slightly overwhelmed and ready to cry again. "Did'ya know Cordelia was the name of King Lear's daughter? A faithful princess. Yer' mother did good namin' ya', sweetie. Ya' wanner' hear 'bout Misty's name?"

 

 

 

Misty nodded furiously. It was her favorite story apart from how her parents fell in love with each other. Cordelia looked at Misty, and then back at Indra, slowly nodding.

 

 

 

"Well… A long long time ago, ma' mother named me Indra. Indra was ta' name of the ancient Hindu warrior god of the sky and rain. So when little miss over here," Indra poked at her daughter's ribs, "came along, ma' husband an' I wanted ta' give her a strong name. Audra. As in storm. But she came early an' I was in San Francisco fo' this medical conference. It rarely ever rains there. Instead, they had this heavenly mist… It was a sort of lingering rain and very unlike a brewing storm. Both mysterious and mellow. So we decided to name her Misty. As in the welcoming seafoam mists in the forests, the ones yer' wake up and travel for miles just to see."

 

 

 

"Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay!" Misty cheered at the end of the short story, planting a hard kiss on her mother's cheek, "What about yer', Dee! Yer' story!"

 

 

 

Cordelia rubbed her eyes with both hands. She didn't really feel like talking. Besides, she didn't know what her name meant. Mother never told her.

 

 

 

"I just want my mommy," she wailed once again, her four-year-old brain unable to wrap around the fact that her mother was not here yet and that she is now in a room filled with perpetual strangers. She felt desperate to go home. She wanted her mommy.

 

 

 

"O-okay, okay," Indra reached down to the table and eased the little girl onto the floor, holding her hand still, "Where does she- Misty! Get down from that table please. Sorry, Ms Crowley, where does she stay?" the mother pursed her lips together into a slight smile.

 

 

 

The teacher wasn't sure it was legal to give away another household's number but she looked at the time again and indeed, more than an hour has passed and she didn't know what she should do with the girl anymore. "1410 Jackson Ave," the teacher finally said after a slight contemplation.

 

 

 

The mother of the curly blonde raised an eyebrow, "In the Garden district? How have I not seen 'em before? We live just down ta' road from 'there. 1364 Philip Street. Come on munchkin, Auntie's gonna' get yer' home, 'kay?" She looked down at the little girl who was trying her best to contain tears, "Misty, let's go! Heather, yer' come wit' me ta' make sure I don't kidnap her!"

 

 

 

The teacher laughed.

 

 

 

###

 

 

 

The cream colored ford car rolled down the streets of the Garden district at ease. Cordelia was buckled into Misty's usual toddler car seat which was in the backseat. Misty on the other hand was seated on the brunette teacher's lap, bouncing up and down excitedly about visiting Cordelia's house.

 

 

 

"This one," Miss Crowley said as they pulled over to the side of the road, "1410 Jackson Ave."

 

 

 

Their eyes took in the white building, french windows and all.

 

 

 

"Wow, okay, no wonder I don't see 'em often. Ta' house is big enough to get lost in!" Indra blinked a couple of times. The doors to the car unlocked as she turned the car engine off. They exited the car, Misty running ahead to the large iron gate. The blonde mother unbuckled Cordelia from the car seat and lifted her onto her hip before gently rounding the car.

 

 

 

Miss Crowley pushed the gates open for all of them to enter.

 

 

 

After crossing the generous front yard, they finally reached the front door and Misty pounded on it. "That's rude, Mist," Indra chided her daughter, her other hand finding the doorbell and pressed down on it hard.

 

 

 

Cordelia's face was still in a frown despite being at the doorstep of her own house.

 

 

 

Then, the large doors opened to reveal a long hallway down, the butler holding the door. "Spalding!" Cordelia cried out, "Where mommy," she asked before writhing on Indra's hip, wanting to get down. Indra looked at the tearful girl and set her down on the floor. Before Cordelia's tiny feet could touch the floor, she was already running mid-air down the pinewood floor, taking a sharp right turn in the middle and disappearing.

 

 

 

Spalding bowed and invited the other three in, closing the door behind them.

 

 

 

They followed the girl's footstep echoes and took the same right turn. They came face to face with a young woman, probably in her late 20s to early 30s, dressed in a magnificent black dress that was contrasted by the house's white furnishings.

 

 

 

" _What is it, Delia?_ " the woman whom they could only assume was Cordelia's mother said annoyingly at the child who was tugging at the hem of her black dress.

 

 

 

The woman's arms were raised above, an alcohol bottle in hand as she tried to use her leg to get the girl off of her. Misty's running came to a halt when she saw the scene and the two adults walked into the living area of the century old mansion.

 

 

 

"Fiona?" the mother of the curly blonde gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? How do you think Misty's mom knows Fiona? I decided to give Misty's name a classier meaning because I realised that it was always just assumed the name came about because Misty's parents were uneducated. Anyway, I hope you liked my take on the name. And now we know Misty went into surgery because her mother was heavily involved in medicine. Next chapter will go back to present day!


	3. 1410 Jackson Avenue: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present! Happy Reading!

"Ya'... Ya'... Ya' are-" Misty said panting, her thoughts were accelerating in her head, and she felt like she couldn't breathe properly. Fuck that; she couldn't breathe at all. "This… No- No… 1410 Jackson Avenue..." she whispered and took a step back before falling, hitting the surgical tray as she went down. There was a loud clatter on the floor followed by the scrambling of policemen out of the room.

 

Cordelia watched the whole scene unfold before her eyes.  _ What was happening? _

 

_ 1410 Jackson Avenue…  _ The words of the curly blonde kept ringing in Cordelia's mind. The address was familiar, but she couldn't remember…

 

The room was now in full blown drama as other doctors piled in at the command of the policemen. Misty was lifted onto another hospital bed with the help of a blonde male doctor. “Misty? Misty? Can you hear me?” He asked as he tapped frantically on the curly blonde’s cheek. 

 

The doctor slowly regained her consciousness, her eyes still hazy. “Dee…” Misty croaked, her arms flailing around in search of the owner of that very nickname.

 

At the sound of it, Cordelia's ears perked. She had almost forgotten all the little pet names people used to have for her. Her mother, she used to call her that. Right? Or it was something close. Fiona, that was her mother's name, right? Her eyes searched the light above. It was flickering. But perhaps it was all in her head. Her memory was flickering. It was… She paused mid thought. What was she thinking about? Her memory… On and off like a broken light bulb. Memories came and went, never lingering for more than a split second.  _ Myrtle… _ A name came to her. And then another name. 

 

_ Misty Day. _

 

But before Cordelia could ask, the doctor was whisked out of sight. 

 

1410 Jackson Avenue… Misty Day… It was all coming back to her. 

 

###

 

"I'm fine, Kyle. It's nothin'. I needa' see-" Misty started to protest.

 

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to sit your ass back down on the bed," Kyle snarled as he pushed Misty gently by the shoulders, causing her to fall backward onto the inclined bed, "It's not nothing. You just fainted out of nowhere, woman!" 

 

Seeing as there was no way out of this situation, she unwillingly laid back down onto the cushioned bedding and unwilling stuck her hand out so Kyle could fuss around her blood pressure cuff. 

 

“It's Cordelia,” she said, causing him to pause, "I'm sure it is." The machine was beeping mercilessly in the background. Her oxygen levels were low, and the machine wouldn’t shut up.

 

“Cordelia…” he recalled, “Your-“ He silenced the machine, “Breathe properly,” he said sternly. Kyle knew, of course. They had gone to the same medical school in Chicago where they quickly became best friends. Misty hadn’t told anyone outside the city of New Orleans before, but everything spilled out after a whole night of drinking, the last day before they graduated, pouring her heart out in his dorm room toilet while he held her curls out of the way.

 

She nodded in confirmation. 

 

He read out her BP which was again, in the normal range and the velcro screeched as it got pulled apart. And he turned his back for one second.

 

That one second was enough for Misty to bolt from her bed and run for the door.

 

"Misty!" he yelled after her pathetically.

 

But Misty heard none of it. She needed to speak to the woman now. The woman whose name was Cordelia.  _ Cordelia Goode. _

 

Her lost friend.

 

###

 

Cordelia's mind was still buzzing with fresh thoughts when the Cajun burst through the door. Her eyes fluttered at the sudden and fast paced movement of her friend. But it was the slam of the door against the frame that had her curled up into a ball, all trains of thoughts coming to a halt as she shut down. Her knees met her elbow in a sort of alliance to protect the rest of the body for what she thought was about to come. 

 

The linoleum flooring beneath the bed seemed to erode away into dirt. 

 

The floor reeked of bleach and other things.

 

Her breath was hitched.

 

Someone was calling her name, pulling her from beneath the covers.

 

There was a sharp, shrill ringing through her mind and her thoughts weren't collecting. Words weren't forming.

 

A hand reached out to grab her.

 

And then there was a scream; she wasn't even sure it came from her throat. But it was deafening.

 

Her eyes saw a double image of someone holding her. It wasn't Hank. It wasn't Hank. Cordelia, breathe. Breathe. A voice in her head told her. She wondered where she learned all these breathing exercises from. The person became one and then split into two individuals again, switching and switching.

 

_ Breathe. _

 

"Cordelia, breathe," Misty repeated as she held the frightened blonde by her wrists. With each writhe and struggle her friend made, Misty felt her wrist light on fire. The sprain from before was getting from bad to worse and the pain seared through her skin and into her bones, every inch aching. Tears sprung from her eyes from the pain but more of the agony of watching her friend relive something right before her very eyes. She gritted her teeth as the pain in her wrist became unbearable. But nothing was as important as her friend. 

 

Clawing at her throat, Cordelia felt desperate to breathe. It was as if she had forgotten how to. The person who was not Hank had snapped an oxygen mask over her face. She finally stopped thrashing, and she took the time to take in three deep breaths. 

 

"That's good, Dee. Good. Ya' are good," blue eyes looked into brown eyes for any form of recognition and for Cordelia, the image of Hank rotted away as she came to look at the same salvaging eyes…

 

All that felt like eternity ago…

 

_ Was she dreaming? _

 

She tried to say something but the oxygen mask had muffled her speech. Her brain thought of yanking at the mask, wanting to get it off but her hands never moved. She had so many questions. So, so many questions. As though their thoughts were connected, Misty's hands held the mask firmly over her face. "Yer' need ta' breathe properly first," she heard the doctor say. 

 

Cordelia laid still as a leaf on the bed and just as the doctor was about to leave her side, the shorter blonde grabbed on firmly to Misty's good hand.

 

"I-" Misty started, but when she saw the amount of fear on her friend's face, she immediately sat down on a rolling stool that was by the side of the bed, "Yer' okay?" she asked delicately. Her friend gave two confirmative nods. The curly blonde’s hand ached in the bones. 

 

With her bad hand, she reached over her neck and pulled the stethoscope from it's position and after much difficulty, managing to get the ear pieces in her ears. 

 

As she placed the stethoscope into place beneath Cordelia’s plain top, her friend shivered.

 

“Sorry, cold hands,” Misty whispered the apology. Her raspy voice felt very warm, very close. It sounded… Something like home to Cordelia. 

 

The shorter blonde’s heart was still beating erratically. 

 

Misty took a shortened breath before withdrawing her hands from underneath. Cordelia shuddered again. 

 

The tranquil silence they remained in felt welcoming. It hugged them both with the same ferocity, an overwhelming comfort, words that plague them both but remained unspoken. There was so much to say, so much time lost but here they were, in quietness that could last for an eternity and beyond. 

 

Kyle entered the room with Cordelia’s unfinished chart in hand, followed by the police, a stance that demanded business. He took a while to take in the situation. “Patient's name?” he asked, trying to make the process as normal as possible but everyone in the room knew that was as far from reality as it could get.

 

“Cordelia Goode,” Misty answered for the woman, “Female, 28 years old, allergic to… Why don’t ya' give me that to fill in,” she finally looked up at the male doctor. Cordelia remained completely silent. 

 

Kyle passed the hard file over. “The police have some questions for her,” he pointed at Cordelia with his eyes, “If she’s up for it. If not they’ll be happy to come back in a few hours.”

 

Cordelia looked at Misty who gave a slight nod before she turned back and made eye contact with the policeman to proceed with his questionnaires. “Okay, Mrs. Renard-“

 

“Goode. Miss Goode,” Misty corrected hastily, “How can yer’ still call her by-“ 

 

“Yes, yes. Sorry, Dr. Day… Uh- Miss Goode, do you know his name?” they asked the first question which seemed easy enough.

 

Cordelia gave a small nod, looking at Misty again before speaking, “Hank. Hank Foxx. Henry Renard...” she trembled at the name. The policemen looked confused. “So, Miss Goode… Was it Hank Foxx or Henry Ren-” 

 

The straight blonde had a problem conjuring up a full sentence. Misty took over, “It was both. Henry Renard, he used for official documents, but his real name was Hank Foxx. Right, Dee? That's what yer’ were tryna’ say?” 

 

Cordelia’s face remained slightly blank. But she nodded in agreement. 

 

The policemen gave them a weird look, “Do you know why he chose the name, Renard?”

 

Cordelia once again found Misty’s blue eyes. They seemed to communicate something between worlds and Misty straightened her back before answering, “It is the French word for ‘fox.' Yer'  _ ought ta'  _ take up some french classes, men.” They both remembered a time where Misty would conduct French lessons in the comfort of either their bedrooms, between doll houses and kitchen sets.

 

The men in blue jotted something down before exchanging looks. Finally one of them asked a stream of questions, “Could you describe the things he did to you?”

 

She resisted the urge to run and hide as she was once again reminded of that man’s doing. Sensing her friend's nervousness, the doctor's hands laced between Cordelia’s. The latter's one fitting snugly into Misty's larger, colder digits. They had always been cold, since the day they met all those years ago. Years that Cordelia could never reclaim back. The cold feeling on her cheek never went away despite everything else eroding away. Even herself.

 

Another silent message was passed, and Misty stood up, her right hand never leaving Cordelia's as her bad hand swept down her her scrub suit that had bunched up around her hips from sitting. "I think that's enough fo' t'day," she announced, gesturing for Kyle to show the policemen out of the room, "Till ta'morrow, till morrow..." She drawled, sitting back down on her seat.

 

###

 

"Cordelia, I am Dr. Zoe Benson, and I'm a good friend of Misty's," the brunette introduced herself to Cordelia. Zoe’s words stung the frail woman a little.  _ She  _ was supposed to be the one in that position now, "I'm a trained psychiatrist here in St. Vincent's and Mist," she gestured at the curly blonde, "has asked me to oversee your case."

 

Zoe turned back to Misty when Cordelia had no reaction. "Right now, whatever you want, you get. This is the call bell. You press on it, and someone will attend to you."

 

Still, not even a single squeak from the straight blonde.

 

"Dee, yer' listenin'?" the Cajun asked gently, "What's wrong? Does something hurt?" She tried to understand what was going on in Cordelia's head but this time, she couldn't. 

 

Cordelia looked to the psychiatrist, knowing full well that if she hadn't been taken all those years ago, she would have been living a hell of a life, probably went to medical school with Misty, or maybe she could've been a professor. She  _ would be _ a professor, she decided there and then. But as she was processing what her life could've been, she reminded herself that she would not be alive if it weren't for Hank. He fed her, took care of her. Then, she suddenly regretted what she had just done. The hatred for herself flourished within her innards, unseen, undetectable. 

 

She missed Hank. It had only been hours. Three hours, maybe. Now that she had seen all the things she could have had, could have been, all the could haves, she wanted out. The light in her shut down. For so many years, she had been dreaming, a free life without shackles, a full day under the sun. But that all seemed too frightening now. It all seemed too daunting. Too daunting for what's left of her.

 

Cordelia wanted out. She wanted to be back in the timeless basement. She wanted to feel safe. Misty used to be her safe haven. But not anymore.

 

_ Not since they stopped looking for her. _

 

"Mist, can I see you outside?" Zoe suggested, pulling the Cajun out. They needed to talk, badly. 

 

Once they were out in the halls, Zoe continued, "Cordelia… When was she taken?"

 

"We were 11," Misty replied promptly, crossing her arms in front of her chest, "Why? What’s wrong? Yer’ got that face on that’s tellin’ me somethin’ is not right."

 

Zoe paused, calculating the numbers and whispered, "18 years. That makes 18 years… Misty, you know what 18 years of being held captive feels like?" the harsh whisper blew against the curly blonde like the cold south wind, "It makes up your reality. Her reality. You know how some people never fully overcome and find themselves after being through the foster systems? It is the same thing. Except a thousand, million times worse. She has had no say over anything that happened to her in the past 18 years so you gotta give her a breather. To process everything. You… She-" Zoe paused for a breath of air, "needs time. She needs time to grasp that  _ this _ is  _ her _ reality now because it had been such a long time ago. It has been 18 years, Misty. 18 years. She has shut herself down for 18 years. Her ambitions, her family, her friends. She has had to forget everything in order to survive. You don't just start living normally after that. And from a clinical standpoint, she's shut down so much of herself I don't think she remembers the time before being kidnapped. Even if she did, it would be very minimal. So the only way to get to her is through. There's no other way in and no other way out. And only she gets to decide if she's opening that door. We don't get to do that." 

 

Misty felt her stomach shift uncomfortably, her forefingers pinching her skin white. She released them, and the color returned like spring after winter. Tears filled her eyes for the second time since the wee hours. But these… These tears were from fear. 

 

Fear of knowing that her friend was not the same one she had left behind 18 years ago. Fear that Cordelia would never be the same. She felt so selfish. God, she was so selfish for wanting Cordelia to be the same person she left behind. How could she be Cordelia's knight when she couldn't even save her princess. Her desolate sobs were stifled with her hand over her mouth, Zoe hugging her tightly. Nothing was helping, and everything hurt. Each cry filled the air with sorrow, all molecules bending their backs from the weight of the grief in each shaky exhale.

 

People change. But this was…

 

This was losing her best friend all over again. This was grief and everything that was ever compared to it.

 

With each passing breath, Cordelia disappeared even more.

 

_ 1410 Jackson Avenue grew blurry. _

 

Cordelia was here now, safe and sound.

 

_ Yet she wasn't. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia is showing signs of Stockholm syndrome and Misty may or may not be coping... You should've also noticed that Cordelia and Misty are slightly telepathic! And don't worry, they will be heading back to Misty's home soon... Probably in the next present day chapter. Hope you all liked this!


	4. Princesses and Knights: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For pavlson, happy birthday. Happy Reading!

"Indra? Indra Baudin?" Fiona turned her attention from her daughter to Misty's mother, "Jesus Christ, it's really you." She said after squinting her eyes to get a clearer view of the doctor who donned a familiar wine scrub.

 

She took large long strides over, her dress flowing gracefully with each step and at the end of her walk, their cheeks met in an effort to reconnect.

 

"I shoulda' known, only yer' would name ya' child such a classy name. Cordelia," Indra let the name roll off of her tongue, "After the princess like I predicted, ya?" A wide smile was received from the wispy haired blonde, "After all these years, you know me best, Indie."

 

Cordelia was left hanging behind Fiona, looking up at Indra and then back at Misty before proceeding to hug her mother's leg. 

 

"What the hell is going on..." Fiona whispered, looking at Misty who too, had suddenly become all shy and squirmish, "When did this happen? What's her name?" she gestured wildly.

 

Indra threw her head back and laughed, "Same time it happened with ya', Missy’ Supreme. None too classy. Gilbert an' I settled on Misty instead of Audra. I know yer' gonna say it's a bad choice but when have I not taken the risk." She winked.

 

"Since day one," Fiona shook her index finger at her friend.

 

Between the two friends, it was a long history of fights and reconciliation. But since the day they met, it had been true, they knew. They knew their friendship was special. 

 

But over the years, through college and boyfriends, distractions and work, they had somehow drifted apart. Now, this was still before the time they had handphones, cellphones, and other fancy devices. Fiona laughed. She couldn't believe they had met over such unlikely circumstances. Over their offspring. 

 

How much smaller could the world get?

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the forgotten teacher, “I… should get going,” she said. 

 

“Oh my! How rude of me ta’ have forgotten ‘bout ya’. Fiona, this is our daughters’  _ responsible  _ teacher, Heather. Heather, Fiona, Cordelia’s  _ irresponsible  _ mother.” She joked. 

 

Fiona pushed her friend gently. “What an introduction,” she mused, “I'm Fiona. Very pleased to meet you too.”

 

“Spalding! Martini for the ladies please,” Fiona called out to the long haired butler, “We have so much to catch up on.”

 

###

 

After refusing a ride back from either of the mothers the teacher, had left and the women finally began to catch up on what has happened in their lives since they last saw each other at Indra's wedding almost 8 years ago.

 

“How's Gilbert?” Fiona asked as she sank back into her arm chair. Her hands played with the pickled olive in her glass, scooping it up with the toothpick before stabbing it. 

 

“Dead, as always. Misty’s makin’ him go from 100 to -672 in seconds,” the doctor said. She paused for a while, unsure of her next words would be rude. “I don't see the father around,” she stated factually. There were no family photos, no sounds of man laughter throughout the still house. 

 

“She has no father,” Fiona looked away, “The girl has no father,” She repeated looking back into concerned blue eyes. 

 

“Fiona-”

 

The golden blonde shot a stern look at her friend, “I said,” her voice was a little shaky, “The girl has no father.”

 

Indra knew not to push. Her friend had her limits, she had tried them, but they were not budging. Mentally, she berated herself for losing contact with Fiona. 

 

Outside, Cordelia and Misty had heard everything. Cordelia let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and her lungs came back to life. 

 

###

 

“Hi Spalding,” Cordelia chirped. “Hiya, Spaldzing!” Misty tried to mimic as they entered the main kitchen. 

 

The woman of the house had instructed the butler to make them something to eat and Indra had suggested they let the girls choose what to have for tea despite Fiona strongly advising against doing that for fear they ended up with empty tea cups and a princess party. Indra assured her that that would not be the case as she sauntered into the kitchen after the children, pulling her longtime friend along.

 

Fiona pulled Misty up onto the round table while Cordelia got up on a stool by the kitchen counters. "So sweeties, what do you two little munchkins want for tea?" Indra spoke to her two person troop. 

 

"Spaghetti. Yum. Yum," Misty giggled, waving her hands wildly as she instantly tried to become a single strand of pasta. 

 

"Misty, honey, it's tea. Not dinner," her mother chuckled at her daughter's silliness, kissing her on the temples. "What about… Say… Cheesecake? Ya' wanna' have cheesecake?" Indra turned her attention away from Cordelia for a second to put Misty down on the floor. Fiona cackled, "Since when were you a baker?" her long dress flowed seamlessly with her movements as she strutted over to her own daughter who was about…

 

"DELIA!" Her voice bellowed, echoing through the empty halls. 

 

In a snap, Fiona was by Cordelia's side, her daughter jerking as the blonde mother's hands roughly pulled the girl from down the stool but it was too late. Cordelia’s brown eyes welled up with tears before the floodgates burst open from the shock of loud shouting and from the searing pain in her right hand. She was carried over to the cutting board. "Cordelia, what have you done?!" Fiona continued to look at her daughter's quickly reddening palm. Indra was quickly by their side as she surveyed the damage done. Cordelia wailed out for her mother. 

 

"Where's the first aid kit?" she asked, delicately pulling Cordelia's hand from Fiona's onto hers, flipping it over to look at the flip side before placing it back onto Fiona's hands, "Run it under ta' tap."

 

Cordelia was immediately carried over to the sink on the opposite side of the counters, and the sound of waters hit the metal basin below the same time Fiona's cursing was spat.

 

“Why are you so  _ stupid!  _ Stupid, stupid!” The mother raised her voice, but there was heartbreak in it. Cordelia’s wails grew louder with each passing curse, each choke harder than the one before. “How many times have I told you not to  _ fucking _ touch the stove! And the iron! God bless you. Why are you so-” 

 

“Stop!” A child’s voice shouted, causing everyone to remain still, “Please, stop.” She added when she saw the fury in Fiona’s eyes. Misty’s eyes widened. “Please,” she finally said meekly, disappearing behind the table. 

 

"Fiona, please. Ya' girl is scared enough as she is," Indra whispered, arriving back with some gauze and cream. 

 

Hearing her mother's voice, the curly girl reemerged from behind the tables. She paused thoughtfully. “Ya’ don't scare me,” the curly blonde declared. With her mother here, there was nothing in the world to fear of. Nothing. 

 

“No one asked,” Fiona turned her attention back to her daughter, drawing soothing circles on small thighs. 

 

Indra smiled slightly. Even though her friend had just been rude to Misty, she knew Fiona had listened to Misty for there were no further insults raining down on the poor girl. Indra removed Cordelia's hands from the cold running water. "Ta’ burn ain't very deep," the doctor announced, "We don't have ta' go ta' the hospital. This should do." She proceeded to apply ointment on the burnt area. "How are'ya feelin'?" She asked, looking into teary brown eyes.

 

When Cordelia didn't reply, Fiona took the chance to chide at her daughter, "Have you no mouth? Or have you no manners," she sighed loudly. 

 

"I have both, Mother," Cordelia mumbled between hiccups. Indra's lips curled. This girl was wonders. If it were Misty, she would still be wailing her head off. From the first aid kit, she retrieved some roller bandage and wrapped it around Cordelia's wrist to secure the gauze.

 

"Still hurts?" Fiona asked tenderly but not without sternness.

 

"Big hurts," the four-year-old wanted to cry again. 

 

"Spalding! Get her some tylenol," Fiona decided, "Now you know why I tell you  _ not _ to touch the iron or the stove or the oven?" She wanted to pour a lecture down on the little girl but decided against it. Spalding passed the full tylenol pill into Fiona's hand, and a cup of cold water on the counter.  

 

Using her fingers, she broke the large pill into halves. "Open your mouth," she pressed her thumb on her daughter's quivering chin, "Swallow," she popped half a pill and pressed the cold glass on wet lips. The four year old took a big gulp of water. "Same thing," she said as she popped the other half into the tiny mouth. "Open," she ordered after the second gulp and Cordelia obliged. Fiona checked if her daughter had really swallowed all of the pill.

 

"This will make the pain go away," Fiona said, satisfied. "So stop crying," she felt the need to add as her thumb roughly wiped away tear tracks from Cordelia’s prominent cheek bones. 

 

Cordelia took in a ragged breath. One, two, three, four, five.

 

Exhale.

 

And she let one last tear slide from her eyes.

 

_ Stop. _

 

###

 

Indra approached Fiona after having put the first aid kit away. The children were sent up to play in Cordelia's bedroom.

 

"Indie," Fiona smiled gratefully, "Thanks for bringing the hospital to us," she joked further. 

 

"Ya' girl is really somethin'," Indra praised, amazed, "Misty can't even take'a scrapped knee without cryin' for half a day," she admitted playfully. 

 

"Tough love is the way to go. You know that, and I know that. You've become soft," Fiona turned to look away, "You're not who you used to be anymore. You let up. Funny how we always thought it'd be Myrtle with the children and the husband. But it was us. It was always us."

 

Indra sighed, "Ya’ love yer’ girl as much as I love mine’. We've both let up."

 

The cool autumn breeze floated into the kitchen, caressing both their skins, leaving a trail of goose pimpled that littered their arms. Fiona felt her stomach knot itself. “Being a mother…” she started, “I was supposed to be strong.”

 

“Bein’ a mother doesn’t make ya’ any less strong. If anythin’, it makes ya’-” 

 

“I was going to get rid of her,” Fiona said calmly. It was the calmness before every storm. "It was a man," Fiona poured out, "At the bar. We met at Jason's once before. It was _ one silly drunkard night.  _ He… He took a part of me. I,” she closed her eyes shut, “I still remember the day I went to the hospital. I saw you in the distance but I was so ashamed of what I was going to do. The doctor came in and she must've been a friend of yours because she recognised me from your wedding… I made her swear not to tell you. And in a flash, I had my legs in stirrups. But I just… I couldn't. That day took another part of me but in return, it gave me something far greater than anything I've ever received before. He doesn't know about Cordelia and I have no intention to change that."

 

"That's why ya' named her Cordelia," Indra hummed, "It wasn't because Cordelia was honest or principled. It was because even in her father's madness, she loved him to death. And she was ta' one ta' King loved most as well. Because yer' are playin' ta' role of ta' father too, she's ta' one ya' love most. And she's ta' one ya' hope still loves ya' even if yer've gone mad. Ya' want her ta' be faithful. Ta' be the' most faithful of all daughters."

 

"Yes," Fiona answered, a weight finally lifted off her shoulders. The meaning, so beautiful, yet so vulnerable. "Cordelia," she smiled as the name graced her tongue, "The most faithful of all daughters."

 

Fiona never cried. But the moment was simply too much. She let herself weep silently in front of her long time friend, knowing full well that she would not judge. They'd been through heartbreaks and broken promises but nothing quite as complex as this.

 

Emotions flooded the tranquillity.

 

"Cordelia, my precious, precious daughter."

 

###

 

Two pairs of feet pattered up the hallway leading into Cordelia's room.

 

"Let's play, Dee!" Misty cheered as they entered the large white bedroom. Blue eyes marvelled at the minimalism of the room. Just like the rest of the house, it was white, finished off with black trimmings all around, complementing yet contrasting. In the middle of the room sat a violet duvet. A close rendition of Misty's favourite color. 

 

There was a large doll house in one of the corners that was modelled exactly after the very house they were in. 

 

"What do you play?" Cordelia asked innocently, traces of her tears long washed away with a cold wet cloth in her mother's palm. 

 

"I like dragons," the curly blonde said, settling down on the white carpet that laid just beside the crowned bed that was fit for a princess. 

 

Cordelia made a face and frowned, "I don't have dragons," she pointed out, "But I have horses and knights. For the princess. Okay?" Their interaction was still filled with so much innocence.

 

"Okay," Misty compromised, "Boo-boo still hurt ya'?" she asked, pointing directly onto Cordelia's bandaged hand. She tilted her head in curiousity. "Must hurt bad if ya' cried," she admitted.

 

"Not hurt that bad anymore," the straight blonde managed a smile, "Thank you for helping me just now. With mother. Mother scary sometimes." As she said that, she pulled the toy box out of it's place under the vanity desk with one hand. She bit onto her lip as her hand searched through the abundance of toys for a knight.

 

Misty crawled over on all fours and joined Cordelia on the wooden pine floor. "Yer' mother an' mine like friends? Like us? We friends?"

 

"Yes, we friends," Cordelia gave a toothy smile. 

 

"Yay! We friends!" Misty fist pumped the air before diving them back into the box, finally finding the knight, "Knight!" she exclaimed once more. The excitable Misty was the reason for Cordelia's second genuine smile that day.

 

"I like you very much, Misty," Cordelia revealed, and the wild blonde looked up only to fall in love with the way brown eyes crinkled. It was the warmest smile Misty had seen other than her mother's. 

 

"You're pretty, Dee," Misty confessed, leaning forward to cup her cheek, "I like you very much too."

 

“Cold,” the straight blonde put her hand on top of the colder digits. “You cold?” 

 

“No,” Misty whispered, “Hands just always cold.”

 

“Okay,” Cordelia whispered back like it was a secret between two of them. Their friendship bloomed in the centers of their hearts, overwhelming yet gentle. A seed, planted between many, growing. Cordelia's warm smiles, Misty's cold hands. A soft chirp from the birds outside screamed through the moment. 

 

“I like cold.” She whispered again, this time into Misty's ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Cordelia first appeared in Shakespeare's play, King Lear. King Lear's youngest daughter loved him through his madness. And he loved her the most. I felt that their troubled relationship was very much like Fiona's and Cordelia's.


	5. Princesses and Knights: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reading!

"Auntie Myrtle, it's Misty …… No, I'mma' not in trouble! I'm 29!" the Cajun threw her head back playfully as the redhead teased her. Cordelia’s doe eyes looked at her and she resumed a serious tone, "Are ya' sittin' down? …… Ya' gotta' sit- …… We found Dee …… Of course, I'mma sure, she's right here in front of me ……. No …… Fiona ….... " the other end of the line was silent.

 

"Auntie, ya' okay?" she asked slightly louder, eyes growing big, "She came'in this mornin' …… Can ya' rush over by ta' end of today? ……. Yes, book the next flight here …… Plenty of 'em …… No, I don't think- ……. Ya' should talk ta' her when ya' are here ….. Goodbye." 

 

The wild blonde hung up.

 

###

 

"Misty," Zoe passed a couple of shampoo bottles into Misty's outstretched hands, "Your office is in a mess. Please clean it up."

 

While Cordelia had been transferred into a standard hospital room, the curly blonde had requested her psychiatrist friend to make a trip back to her office to pick up some shower essentials. She knew the hospital provided them but decided Cordelia would fair better with Vanilla smelling ones that didn't reek of chemicals.

 

"I think I've got betta' things ta' do here," she said, pulling the numerous small bottles onto her lap. There was a rose scented one, a honey one, a strawberry one and several halves used vanilla mint's that were her favorite. "Hey, where's ta' lavender one?" she noted as she peered out of the bathroom into the connecting room where Cordelia was still outside in her bed playing a game on the phone the doctor had lent her. 

 

"You finished it the other day, remember?" Zoe rolled her eyes, recalling two days prior during a night shift when she had asked for Misty to pass the shampoo but it had been thrown over the stall, empty. 

 

"Yea, I remember now," Misty mumbled as she stalked back to where they were. She checked the time on her pocket watch.

 

9:16am. 

 

Just past 4 hours since Cordelia had come in.

 

Towel in hand, she took one last look at Zoe, sighing. "I really wanted ta' lavender one," she whispered inaudibly, and the brunette gave her a weird look. Misty walked out into the main room.

 

"Heya' Dee," Misty said, her blonde friend's eyes darting from the phone to hers almost immediately, "Ya' know later in ta' day we're gonna go into surgery ta' set yer' bone, right? But before that, do ya' wanna take'a shower? Ta' wash off ta' blood an' all." 

 

Cordelia took a long look at her friend before looking down on her soiled baggy jeans and bloodied shirt, nodding slightly. 

 

"Dr. Day, what do you think you are doing?!" Dr. Jeff, the head of trauma stepped into the room, "She has yet to be examined by the other doctors." 

 

“Right,” Misty admitted. She had been so caught up in normalizing this situation she had forgotten. Cordelia needed a full body work up. “I forgot,” she apologized. The shorter blonde looked up frantically to her friend for an explanation. What were they about to do? 

 

Misty held Cordelia’s hand in hers. 

 

“Dee, some other doctors are gonna’ come in ta’ help check ya’, okay? Nothin’ ta’ worry about,” her gentle hands stroked Cordelia’s greasy hair. It was frizzy and full of dirt, nothing like the shiny mane Fiona had maintained when they were younger. Then again, Misty had to remind herself that nothing was the same. 

 

Brown eyes seemed frightened. They had been since she came in. 

 

Misty scanned the resident doctor standing next to Jeff that had been sent into the room to do the examination. 

 

“Could we uh…” The doctor turned to the man, “Let’s have a female doctor do it, shall we? Someone experienced. Jeff, if you could…” She trailed slightly; her lungs expanded as she took in a deep breath, straightening her back. 

 

“Sure. I'll have Marie come in?” He referred to the middle aged doctor by her first name. One look at Nurse Jenna and she was off to page the doctor. Dr. Marie Laveau, who was an army surgeon turned peds surgeon. Cordelia was no longer a peds case, but Misty agreed Marie was an excellent choice. The darked skin doctor was gentle enough for a kid. But at the same time, she had served patients who were tortured for years by opposing forces in the army. 

 

Misty shot a grateful smile to her boss. He was always such a nice guy. “Can I speak to you outside?” He asked in a whisper next to her. 

 

“Can do,” she said, turning back to Cordelia, “I'm just right outside, ‘Kay? Zoe is here. Ya’ can talk ta’ her. ‘Kay? Ya’ okay?” Misty kept on checking. She was afraid the minute she turned away, Cordelia would be gone again. 

 

But Cordelia just looked at her. 

 

### 

 

Thoughts lit up Cordelia’s dark mind. She couldn't remember when was the last time she allowed thoughts so freely into her head. 

 

She thought about everything. Misty, Fiona, Myrtle. What did they think of her reappearance? Would they still like her the way she was now? There was no telling. Misty. Did Misty have a boyfriend? Or a husband even. She mentally slapped herself. Of course Misty could have a husband. She had one herself. For so many years she had been Mrs. Renard. Mrs. Foxx. 

 

Was she free now?

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by another doctor entering the room. Eyebrows furrowed deeply. She wanted to think! Why didn't they let her think! 

 

She surveyed her surroundings for Misty but blonde curls was nowhere to be seen. 

 

“Where is Mi-sty?” The Cajun’s name was broken into half. The sacred name Cordelia would only whisper for the past 18 years when she was lying in pain on the rough concrete floor. 

 

But Zoe wasn't listening; she was talking to the new doctor in harsh whispers. 

 

“Hi Cordelia,” the new doctor smiled charmingly, “I'm Dr. Marie Laveau. Now, I've heard," her voice paused unequally at weird places, but the deepness of it transcended anything Cordelia had heard. It was soothing to her ears. "That Misty and you go way back, is that so?" Her smile was warming. The doctor slapped on blue gloves. 

 

"Now, is it okay if I called you Cordelia?" she asked, moving the metal trolley around from the foot of the bed to beside her.

 

"S-ure," the blonde's voice cracked once more.

 

The doctor nodded thoughtfully, preparing some scissors. "We're going to start with the easy stuff first, okay? Just questions." She lifted up a clipboard and filled up Cordelia's name.

 

Just as she was about to ask for Misty again, the wild blonde walked back into the room and pulled up a stool next to the large hospital bed. Cordelia felt Misty's hands lace into hers once again, and she gripped onto it tightly. 

 

"Are you on any medications currently? Any other medical history?"

 

Cordelia shook her head.

 

"Uhhh, she's got ta'... Asthma. She's got asthma an'," Misty interjected, "Have ya' had any attacks durin'..." she trailed off. Misty wondered if her friend had any access to medical needs during her time in purgatory. 

 

"No… I uh… I haven't had one in years," she mumbled out, her eyes diverted to the left from deep thinking, searching through her mind.

 

Marie continued to ask questions. They each felt deeply personal. But again, did Cordelia know what personal space was? The questions seemed endless. Was there penetration? Where? When was the last time? Did he force himself on her? Could she remember how many times it had happened?

 

Cordelia paused, she gulped. 

 

"I lost count," she whispered to herself, but Misty heard, "Maybe… Maybe three times on good days but… But he wasn't the only one sometimes. Sometimes he had friends over," she confessed shamefully Misty's grip on her hands tightened for a bit before Cordelia looked at her, 

 

"You're hurting me." She lisped in a monotonous manner.

 

Misty let go immediately.

 

The peds surgeon continued to fill in the forms painstakingly, scribbling, pausing hesitantly, writing notes where it was required before making Cordelia strip on a white piece of mat, catching any falling hair. Her clothes were collected for evidence, and Misty covered her friend up in a hospital gown. The ones that were notorious for showing your butt. 

 

"Good, we're done with all that now," Marie explained carefully, "Now we'll do a head to toe examination, I will need to take some samples and swabs. It will be a little uncomfortable," she didn't lie. Misty looked at Cordelia for a reaction, but there was none. Just the side view of a plain, blank face staring away from her.

 

The doctor carefully swabbed every bruise before moving on to open cuts. She took a cotton swab and rolled it over Cordelia's open gash on her forehead. "Sorry, I know it hurts, honey," she apologized when Cordelia flinched. Misty was partially glad Cordelia could still feel.

 

And then the time came for the pelvic examination.

 

Marie again, very slowly explained the whole procedure to the traumatized blonde.

 

This time, Cordelia reacted.

 

She turned to Misty for help.

 

"Pl-ease don't make me do this," her ragged breath getting heavier by the moment at the thought of someone else touching her down there. 

 

"Dee, ya' gotta' do this. It's ta' most important part," Misty grabbed ahold of Cordelia's hands again, stroking them gently this time. "I'm sorry, Dee but this..." She turned to the black doctor for help in explaining it.

 

"It'll be over in a minute, honey," Marie bargained, Misty nodding along.

 

The bottom lip of Cordelia's trembled from fear, "Ple-ase..."

 

"Dee, we gotta'do this..." Misty cried back, “I’m sorry…” and she used one hand to press against Cordelia’s shoulders that were shaking. Her other hand snaked around her friend’s head, encircling it in a weird manner. Lips bled with sharp teeth sunk into them. Marie jumped into action. 

 

Cordelia let out an incomprehensible sob as she felt gloved hands begin to part her thighs. 

 

“It's gonna be quick, honey. Just open slightly wider… That's it…” the peds surgeon attempt at soothing the shorter blonde was futile. She pressed one hand on Cordelia’s left kneecap. Misty helped by holding down the right. 

 

The wild blonde was quick to catch tears dropped sideways towards Cordelia’s ear, pressing a heavy kiss on strained temples. A wretched sob was let out followed by another. 

 

“Ple-ase…” the straight blonde mumbled pathetically. She felt violated all over again, her inner mind screaming over and over. Sweat drenched her skin as she struggled against her will, she could almost feel her eyes pulsate within their sockets. Her mouth contorted in yet another wordless sob. Misty could feel Cordelia’s thighs shaking against her hand. 

 

“One more second, my darling… And weeee're done...” Marie trailed before withdrawing all of the instruments swiftly. All the evidence had been collected, hair samples, pubic hair samples, throat swabs, pelvic swabs, etc. Cordelia snapped her thighs shut, letting out another cry.

 

Misty pressed her delicate thumb onto Cordelia’s eyes, causing them to flutter shut. She drew them in a swiping motion, wiping away what's left of her friend’s tears. 

 

“Yer’ so brave, Dee… Imma’ so proud of ya’,” she placed another wet kiss on Cordelia’s temples, her hands stroked the straight blonde’s features, tracing over prominent cheekbones. 

 

Cordelia continued to let out silent tears, choking every once in awhile. 

 

Her rapid breathing slowly down. Inhale, exhale. That's it, she told herself. 

 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

 

She held her breath.

 

Stop.

 

###

 

Jeff managed to push the surgery forward so Cordelia wouldn't have to wait for too long. 

 

Soon after the straight blonde had cleaned herself up, she was wheeled into the operating theater. Misty stood by her friend’s bedside, peeping down. Her wild hair was tucked neatly into a grey scrub cap that had little black cartoon knights on them. At the back, embroidered in detail were her initials, MD. Funny how that stood for medical doctor as well. 

 

Cordelia wanted to look at her friend’s face but it majority of it was covered by a thin surgical mask. 

 

"Ya' okay?" Misty’s muffles came through the mask as she looked into brown eyes. 

 

“Knights,” Cordelia exhaled shakily, the IV plug following her outstretched fingers that pointed at the wild blonde’s scrub cap. 

 

“Yea,” the taller blonde smiled weakly, “But I'm no knight without ma’ princess.” 

 

The frail blonde whimpered at the memory. 

 

A man’s voice interrupted them, “Miss Goode, we’re going to put you under now. You will feel no pain. Just breathe normally and count backwards from a hundred.”

 

A gel sealed oxygen mask came down upon Cordelia’s face, she fought it for a moment, wondering what was happening but Misty guided her, counting down from a hundred. 

 

100… 99…

 

She felt herself slipping away. Eyelids were blinking rapidly to try to stay awake.

 

98… 97… 

 

96…… 

 

She lost count as her eyes fluttered shut, lingering blue eyes as her last vision. 

 

###

 

Cordelia's mind woke up at the sound of a harsh, raspy whisper by her bedside. Her eyes remained willfully shut, but she was fully aware now. She didn't know when she had fallen asleep nor how long she had been out for. Her heart rate started to rise slightly.

 

"…… Ya' take a left turn …… There's a door to yer' right …… Why don't ya'- …… Room 506- …… No …… I will come an' get ya'-," the Cajun trailed, pausing to listen to the other party in unequal intervals. Misty took a last look at her friend and made it about halfway across the room before there was a creak of the door as a tall woman with crazy hair walked in. 

 

Brown eyes opened.

 

Cordelia watched as Misty rushed the other halfway across the room to crash into the faceless woman. "Ah, my Misty… My Misty… I took the first flight in as soon as..." the woman's voice sounded like familiar music to Cordelia's ears. Like the kind of songs you hear on the radio but don't know the title to. It was exactly like that. Misty placed her index finger on her lips before turning back to find Cordelia wide awake in bed.

 

"Dee, yer' feeling okay?" she greeted in a soft, raspy tone, "Do ya' know what happened? Yer' were just in surgery ta' get the arm fixed, okay? Nothin' ta' worry 'bout." Misty comforted, adjusting the nasal cannula over Cordelia's ears. 

 

The oxygen tickled the insides of her nose.

 

Myrtle made her way over to Cordelia's bedside. “Oh, my dear Co-delia,” the redhead said. There was something different about the way the name sounded. 

 

The blonde patient wiggled her fingers in her cast. 

 

Misty noticed from the corner of her eyes, "Anythin' hurts?" She fussed around the cast, checking and rechecking. Her hands flew to the drips, checking again before adjusting something. "This should make ya' feel a lot betta'."

 

With a subtle awareness of who the redhead was, Cordelia spoke in the softest voice she could muster, "Auntie Myrtle?" China clinked on the bedside table as Misty poured her a drink.

 

"Yes, Co-delia, my baby bird..." Myrtle drawled. Cat eye glasses were planted firmly on her high nose bridge. She was older than Cordelia remembered her to be. 

 

Then again, Misty wasn't 11 years old any longer.

 

There was a fleeting moment of recognition as they locked eyes, Cordelia's memories suddenly clear. She was who she remembers herself to be, Cordelia Goode. Cordelia Goode… That was who she… Who she left behind, right? She tried to collect herself, the name ringing a bell so repetitively it morphed into a funeral toll. 

 

Her forehead creased in concentration, piecing her past story together. 

 

Misty swept Cordelia's blonde strands away from troubled eyes. Cordelia looked up at Misty, mouth slightly agape, very unlike herself before moving her gaze away and towards the dizzy white walls. "Dee?" Misty broke her trance. "No," she replied back, unsure herself if that was supposed to mean anything. She refocused. Thoughts past through her mind so quickly they didn't linger long enough for her to form a proper question. 

 

"Where's Mother?" she finally blurted, looking at Misty and then at Myrtle. 

 

And the two people standing turned to look at each other, not saying a word.

 

###

 

Misty and Myrtle excused themselves from the room.

 

"She has every right to know," Myrtle beat Misty to the first sentence of an impending argument.

 

"No, not now. She's still so… She's still reelin' in from..." 

 

The redhead opened her mouth.

 

Misty met it by putting her fingers up, "Don't fight me, Auntie, ya' know this is a big thing. Dee can't take it, not now," the wild blonde was quick to rebut. She crossed her arms in front of her in a defensive stance. 

 

“My dear baby bird… What have they done to her…” Myrtle whistled exasperatedly, covering her face with gloved hands, she let out a soft sob. 

 

Misty wrapped her hands around her beloved aunt. 

 

For a long time now, it had just been the both of them against the world. 

 

###

 

Misty pushed her tears aside as she reentered Cordelia’s room. 

 

“Heya, Dee…” she moved swiftly across the room to the straight blonde’s bedside, “Dr. Jeff says ya’ can be discharged later since I’mma very familiar with the post surgery care. So um… We’ll be goin’ home.”

 

Cordelia, long forgotten about her earlier question about Fiona, smiled slightly in response. “Home?” She asked, “To your house?”

 

“Yes,” Misty mirrored her friend’s smile, “To ma’ house. But it's yours now too.”

 

Cordelia looked down for a moment and blinked; she didn't know what to think of this. Where was Hank? How was he? But she didn't dare to ask anyway, so she continued to let her thoughts eat their way out her mind. 

 

The doctor brushed her hands past her friend's broad forehead, sensing impending thoughts, a storm within the mind. "Somethin' ya' wanna' say?" she asked gently, bending down slightly to Cordelia's eye level. She almost felt tears well up again as the thought of Cordelia struggling against her this morning floated back. Scanning her friend, she saw that the blonde mane had returned to its former glory days. No longer dirty and bunched up, it sat past her breasts, ending around her 8th or 9th rib bone. Underneath the skimpy gown, her collar bone seemed to stick out to an almost a painful degree. 

 

Misty looked away, unable to bear the sight for one more second. 

 

"No," Cordelia simply settled before the blank look in her eyes returned. 

 

###

 

Myrtle with her usual fashion gigs had somehow managed to find Cordelia a fitting outfit as they departed from the hospital. The outfit was simple, a small black dress with black leggings, one Fiona would have definitely approved. 

 

But in all of her efforts, the redhead had someway or the other forgotten about getting Cordelia shoes. Instead, they were now left with Misty's extra pair of sports shoes that failed to rise to the occasion. An unflattering look nonetheless. The reaction on Myrtle's face priceless as she stepped back to examine her incompetence.

 

"My, my, Co-delia. I am so terribly sorry," she whispered, leaning in for a hug. 

 

Cordelia, on the other hand, had different thoughts about the overall outfit, "I haven't looked this good in a long time, Auntie. It's okay..." the last word came out more of an emotional breath than a word. 

 

Kyle came through the door to inform them that the cab they ordered would be bringing them to Misty's apartment. 

 

“Aren't you coming with us?” Cordelia asked softly when the doctor said she would meet them at the apartment instead. 

 

“Bike,” Misty friend around to say. One word was all it took for Cordelia to understand. “Be careful,” she curled her lips up, amused by a memory. 

 

“Oh, will ya’ stop teasin’ me!” The wild blonde exclaimed back, “I'm much better at it now!” Happiness radiated off them. 

 

The cab seemed to drive at snail pace behind Misty's two wheeled bicycle. But it was a short trip anyway, and no one seemed to mind it. Car shadows melted one into the other, reaching forward to kiss before withdrawing abruptly. The sky was almost dark by the time they arrived back. Funny how time always seems to lose its mundane pace during the evening, when it's racing the sunset. 

 

15 minutes was all it took for the sky to transition into a dark blue. 

 

###

 

The lift made a swift noise as they ascended up to the 19th story. The wild blonde had her bike propped up on one wheel to maximize space in the already small elevator. 

 

Cordelia stared at Misty's back. It was how she remembered it to be except they were all taller now. Though she was still short of a few inches. 

 

The lift doors opened into a hallway where there were only two doors facing each other. The doctor made a left turn and jiggled her keys; her bike abandoned casually by the side wall. 

 

Walking through the door frame felt like walking through time. 

 

The apartment was new. It smelt new. But there were touches so Misty, Cordelia felt her heart twist inside her rib cage. The wild blonde padded through the house in darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight and she hadn't even bother turning on the light switch. And there was shuffling in the corner of the room before what Cordelia's suspicions were confirmed.

 

Landslide played soothingly through the empty apartment. 

 

"Stevie," Cordelia smiled at her best friend as reality began to set in. She was no longer returning home to Hank and his abusive ways There would be no more chains, no more starving. Just peace. 

 

And love.

 

"Ya' remember?" Misty seemed surprised; she left the light switches off.

 

"How can I not?" Cordelia hugged herself from elbow to elbow, staring deep into ocean blue eyes she remembered so very well. And for the first time, she reached up to touch Misty's cold skin. So many times before, it had been her recoiling from cold touch. But Misty leaned in, allowing her to continue caressing smooth skin that was unlike the rough ones she had grown accustomed to. 

 

The coldness felt like a welcoming friend. 

 

Misty felt Cordelia's warmth like an old duffle coat. The kind of trusty old coat you wear on especially cold days. Her days without Cordelia had been anything but warm. Tears drenched their faces.

 

"Misty? Don't you have something to show Cordelia? Go ahead," the redhead prompted the doctor like she was a child again.

 

"Come'on, I'll show ya' somethin'," Misty pulled her friend by the wrist, exactly like when they were young, dragging her towards what seemed like a guest room. The taller blonde pushed the heavy door open, and the room was an exact replica of Cordelia's old bedroom. Complete with furniture she was so familiar with she could recognize even in the darkness.

 

The only thing missing was the balcony. In its place stood full-length windows instead. 

 

"Ta' windows came with ta' apartment. I couldn't get them-"

 

"Misty... When did you..." Cordelia gulped, she felt new tears gathering again. Today had been such an emotional roller coaster. 

 

"Half year ago, when I came here. Remember Mistar' Spalding?" She explained quietly, "Auntie and him had everythin' in ya' room measured and remade. Sent it here as a farewell present."

 

Cordelia moved to the middle of the room where her lavender duvet sat, untouched and clean, she reached her hand down to sweep the smooth fabric, tears free falling. She looked at the bedside table to find an old photo.

 

"But tis'," Misty heaved a box from the bottom of the vanity desk onto the bed, "Tis' came straight from ya' room. It was ours." 

 

From the old box, she pulled out a knight, followed by a princess. 

 

"I can't believe you still have it..." She searched to make out Misty's deep set features in the insufficient lighting, "I can't..." Her face buckled, and she broke into an array of different tears. Ones from painful memories, some from the time lost, some from joy, some from relief.

 

"I sleep in here sometimes," Misty admitted tearfully, "It's yours now. Dee… It was always yours.." she choked, each word filled to the brim with emotions. The relief of finding Cordelia was more than her heart could ever hold. 

 

Myrtle stood at the door frame, admiring the both of them.

 

She couldn't help but wish Fiona and Indra could be here to see the reunion of these two. Because it was simply too beautiful a thing to miss.

 

She adjusted her glasses and picked up her luggage, stalking across the hallway into yet another guest room. Noticing that the music had stopped playing, she made her way back to the record player and reset the tonearm to the outer rim of the vinyl.

 

Landslide flooded the apartment that was no longer empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this! Some memories will be written in a later Even numbered chapter (etc. Misty's bike riding and stuff). As for Fiona and Indra... What do you think happened to them?


	6. What Ever Happened To Fiona Goode: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Mr. Joseph is in relation to the Axeman. Happy Reading!

_ [One year later. As five-year-olds] _

 

"Ma, I really don't wanna be 'ere," Misty whined loudly, her crumpled sunday dress being brushed out by her tall mother. 

 

"Misty, we talked 'bout this," Indra eyed her daughter carefully. Picking up the handbag where she had left it on the floor, she stood up on her heels to tower over the small child. "But I wanna' play wit' Dee," Misty wailed in protest, plonking down on the pavement, earning a few head turns.

 

The french mother pursed her lips together. 

 

"There'll be plenty of time, later on, come on," she bent down to pull the girl up, "If ya' behave, we'll go over ta' Fiona's later, okay?"

 

The child's golden blonde hair was swept away by a breeze that brought to her happiness, "Yes! Yes! Yes! I'll be good, Mama," she chanted, planting her foot firmly on the ground before standing up in her Mary Janes. And she was gone by the second through the church's heavy oak doors.

 

Indra looked to her husband and chuckled.

 

###

 

Misty slumped onto the table. She'd really much rather be in the greenhouse dressed in shorts and a singlet. But instead, she was stuck in a stifling dress and uncomfortable shoes.

 

She stared intently at the clock. Time seemed to flow like cement, stopping for a minute after each second. As seconds drew longer, even the white chipped wall of the classroom seemed more interesting than whatever the teacher had to say at the front of the class.

 

"Last question for the day! Can someone tell me who were the first man and woman?" the cheerful teacher asked lightly. Half a dozen hands shot up into the air. 

 

Misty remained silently bored. The louisiana heat suddenly felt stifling as her pencil drew wide circles on the scrap paper. Beside them was a stickman rendition of Cordelia she had drawn earlier. 

 

"Adam and Eve," the children chorused together. 

 

"Very good! And that wraps up our class, children! Well done! I'll see all of you next Sunday!" 

 

The class erupted into cheers from every corner, leaving Misty to feel especially left out. It wasn't that she didn't  _ like  _ studying about God. Cordelia was just way more interesting… Besides, what was the whole point of this?

 

Misty was the first to stand up from her chair, darting for the exit. 

 

"Misty, dear. Not so fast. Can I see you for a minute?" the teacher beckoned the curly blonde over to her side, crouching down to the child's height. "I noticed… That you weren't really paying attention in my lesson just now. Let's see what's that?" she pointed at the A4 paper the young Cajun held tightly in her hands.

 

The wild blonde looked cautiously before revealing her masterpiece. "And who may that be?" the teacher chuckled at the sight of a scribbled and unrecognisable stickman.

 

"Dee," Misty said firmly, "Ma' best friend." 

 

"Your best friend! Wow, she's so pretty," the bible study teacher played along, "Is she not here in class today?"

 

Misty blushed at the comment before answering, "Oh, Mama says Auntie Fiona won't let Dee come b'cause she doesn't believe in tis' kinda things. I wished she here!" The wild blonde shrugged, pulling at her backpack straps. "An' Dee's really nice. I wish she were here so God could see that." she continued without pausing.

 

"Oh, Misty! I'm sure your friend is nice. And God  _ can  _ see her." she smiled at the innocence of the little child. 

 

"Yea…? How?" the small child scratched her head, "Like'a santa claus? My Mama says Santa can see if we naughty or nice… So I gotta' be good all ta' time or else he'll take my presents away," the wild blonde pouted in retaliation. 

 

"Something like Santa," the teacher nodded along. How could she ever fully describe the concept of a higher power to a 5 year old child? She looked deep into childish blue eyes, yet to be fully developed and unharmed by the cruels of the world. The way pure eyes saw the world was so magnificently different. 

 

Misty thought for a moment, her bubble of thoughts bursting, "But will God like Dee even if she don't come ta' church?"

 

The teacher was surprised at the question. She smiled tenderly back at the child who looked puzzled more than anything. Before she could answer, a knock on the door interrupted them, the person revealing himself to be Misty's father. "Hey," he reached behind his neck to scratch an itch. The teacher turned her attention back to the golden haired child.

 

"God loves all his children equally, my dear Misty. No matter what," she swept her hands through blonde locks, "I want you to always remember that." And she sent the child off.

 

Gilbert shot her a grateful look.

 

###

 

"Aaand we're here," Gilbert announced as he cranked the brakes, pulling the family's Ford car into the large mansion. 

 

Indra, who sat next to the wild haired child, squeezed her daughter's cheeks together. "Now, what did'I say 'bout bein' in ta' house?"

 

Misty looked helplessly at her mother who did not let go of her cheeks, "Ta' use our inside voice," she whispered through squished cheeks, giggling before scrambling out of her mother's grasp, getting her hands on the car door. She was silent as she approached the beautiful mansion. But the silence was not to last as Spalding opened the door at her knocking, allowing a ball of wild curls into the main hallway. 

 

She ran like a vehicle out of control, her tiny feet pattering on the wooden floor. "DEEEEEEEEE!" Misty's childish scream echoed through the house as she pounded up the stairway two steps at once trying to find her best friend. 

 

"Misty _DAY!_ _I just said_ inside voice! And NO running!" an exasperated shout came from the front of the house but the energetic 5-year-old was having none of it. Indra shook her head as her daughter disappeared up the steps. 

 

Rounding the corner, Misty could hear Cordelia's remote giggles that seemed to have been expecting her. 

 

And indeed, she was not disappointed when she made a sharp left turn into the latter's bedroom, finding the proper child sitting by the box of toys, her hands sifting through it meticulously. Cordelia, dressed in a beautiful white sundress looked inquisitively at her friend.

 

"Dee!!" she crashed headfirst into Cordelia's torso, causing the both of them to fall back in laughter. 

 

"Hi Mist..." Cordelia drawled longingly, "You look weird," she pointed out honestly.

 

"Ma says we gotta' dress good for church," the wild blonde bubbled, reaching to her toes as she tugged off her painful shoes. The straight blonde went to the closet and picked out a pale purple sleeveless as well as beige short shorts. 

 

“Wear,” she pushed both articles of clothing into the young Cajuns hand and unzipped the dress. 

 

Misty, mostly satisfied by her friend’s fashion choice, shimmied out of her Sunday dress, leaving herself almost naked apart from her white cotton panties. 

 

She looked into the mirror and pointed at her ever growing belly. 

 

“Fat,” she pointed at it, turning back at Cordelia who was inspecting it as well. 

 

“Yea,” Cordelia agreed, “Stop eating so many bread!” By bread she meant bagels. But it was all the same anyway. 

 

“Yea,” Misty echoed after her friend. But her pout grew into a serious purse as she put the shorts on the floor, opening up each hole wide enough for her feet to step inside. She bent down and pulled them up, successfully getting two feet in two different holes. 

 

It had just been less than a month since Indra had let her dress herself. 

 

Misty eyed the singlet in Cordelia’s hands like an enemy. She put her head in one of the holes, emerging victorious after certain pulling in one of the sleeve holes. She put her hands through the remaining two holes and looked ridiculous. 

 

“You look silly!” Cordelia chuckled, helping her friend out of the odd position. 

 

“You put your head in and go for the middle hole,” she taught wisely, showing how it's done. 

 

“But it's so dark in t’ere! Can't see anythin’!” Misty protested, before trying once more and finally succeeding, “I got it!”

 

The wild blonde bounced around the room with happiness. The straight blonde friend just stood and smile warmly. "Let's play princess tea party," Cordelia smiled, standing up to go to her costume corner as she picked out a princess gown. 

 

Misty sulked. "Not again! I wanna' play hide and seek! Princess games are borin'..."

 

The smaller blonde stopped in her tracks. "Fine," she murmured, a bit hurt. But her sadness was interrupted by the slamming of her mother's door. 

 

"Misty! Cordelia! No slamming doors!" Indra's voice traveled from downstairs to their ears but it neither of the girls who were responsible for the loud noise. 

 

“Wasn't us, Mama!” Misty yelled back to her mother before turning back to her friend, “Come’on you hide and I seek!” 

 

There was a grunt from Fiona's room once again.

 

But their unworldly ears were ignorant to the danger that lurked around the corner. 

 

The straight blonde gave a confirmative nod before running off to find a spot good spot. Where even her friend couldn't find her.

 

###

 

Cordelia darted from one room to the other, trying to find the best spot possible. She heard the time bomb ticking down, 30 seconds to go. Brown eyes took one look at the stairs and she decided to go down. As quietly as possible, she descended down the curved steps.

 

20 seconds left.

 

Cordelia's heart thumped heavily.

 

The office would be a good place to hide she decided in her mind. 

 

Her small hands pulled away the swivel chair, revealing a spot beneath the dark rosewood table just big enough for her tiny frame. A smile crept onto her face at the thought that her friend was never going to find her here. 

 

5 seconds left.

 

She heard the wood above her patter with tiny feet and she knew Misty was on her way. 

 

Silence fell upon her like a sheet, her breathing lightened to match it. 

 

Room air stilled.

 

From above, she could hear Misty calling out her name. But all of a sudden, Cordelia felt that her ears were playing tricks on her.  _ Thump. _ At first, she thought it was her beating heart which must have escaped her body. But it was heavy footsteps that entered through the opened door she had forgotten to close behind her. 

 

She pulled her knees closer to her. Now, she held her breath as the footsteps hastened, things on the table were falling onto the floor causing a cluttered commotion.

 

She grew afraid.

 

That wasn't Misty. Misty didn't make sounds the faceless man was making.

 

Her muscles tensed up, leaving wide brown eyes to dart all over the little view she could see from where she was. She could only pray that her ears were mistaken. That it was really Misty who had found her. 

 

The chair in front of her moved and before she knew it, rough hands reached down and pulled her out by her stick thin thighs, leaving her yelping.

 

"COUGH OUT THE WATCH, CHILD," his voice was deeper than anything she had heard before. She grew afraid, smaller. Fear crept like a spider all around her.

 

She recognized him as one of Fiona's men. One of her supposed father figures. Over the past year, with Indra's encouragement, Fiona had gone out to find herself a father for Cordelia. Some of them were nice but they always left. One after the other, Cordelia stood by the door as they pulled their luggages out. As each one left, she saw a part of her mother's soul being taken away by these men. 

 

Some were better than the others. Some left her toys so she could remember them. And in fact, she did remember all of them. But Mr.  Joseph, a burly man with big eyes. 

 

He was the big bad wolf.

 

"I eat children," he had told the five-year-old on their first meeting and her mother laughed along together. And the fear just grew with each day. She didn't understand why her mother was still with this man. 

 

Her bottom lip trembled and her face grew pale.

 

Fear coursed through her veins like paralyzing mercury. It was icy cold and prickly and the grip he had on her thigh seemed to grow tighter with each passing second. 

 

Misty, she thought helplessly. 

 

"COUGH. OUT. THE. WATCH, THIEF," he bellowed once again, his breath so close to her face, she could feel the anger vibrate off his words.

 

And before she knew it, she was hung dry over his shoulder and marched out of the house by the back doors. Through glazed eyes, she saw Misty running towards her and her eyes seeked help from her friend. But Misty ran away with a buckled face. Even her brave friend was suddenly afraid. Cordelia's white dress was dirtied as he threw her onto the muddied floor beside the greenhouse. 

 

She wanted to cry out but her words were caught up behind her tongue. 

 

He looked at her, waiting for an answer.

 

But there was nothing to say. Hell, she didn't even know what any of this meant other than he was causing purple booboos to form on her white skin. What was a thief? What watch? Each question manifested itself deep within her inexperienced mind. Her hands reached up to wipe wet eyes but before the spray of cold water was first to hit her like a tsunami.

 

And alas! She cried out for Fiona.

 

She heard commotion in the background but the chlorine in the water hurt her eyes. She couldn't see what was happening. She just knew the water wasn't stopping and each droplet felt like a tiny knife piercing through her skin. But it soon became a burning pain that surround all of her skin. Her mind was blank now, apart from Fiona's name. Her tiny body had shut down as more angry droplets rained down on her, leaving angry red streaks where the water hit directly on her skin. 

 

Wails poured out from her mouth now and she choked time and again at the water that entered her mouth. Between cries, she inhaled water like a substitute for air, each breath more painful than the last. It felt like she was drowning.

 

Her primal mind cried out shriller and shriller, until it felt like the world's eardrums had burst but yet, she still cried. The pain never seemed to have an ending to it. Even as the water subsided from the hose into a trickle. She shook with the earth's force within her. And even as she was pulled up into a warm embrace. She cried into the adult's ears. A cry of pure terror between each ragged breath.

 

Indra had never heard anything quite like that.

 

She paced up and down with Cordelia on her hip, the child not calming down one bit. 

 

"Delia," Cordelia heard the adult say softly, "Yer' alright. Yer' alright. I promise. Now, take deep breaths, deep breaths." 

 

_ But promises were made to be broken. She was not alright. _

 

The adult drew comforting circles on the child's back, uncaring that the dripping wet body had imprinted a large damp patch on her dress. Her delicate hands ran smoothly through darkened blonde hair. "Take all ta' time ya' need," she breathed into the child's ears. 

 

Cordelia’s lungs worked over time for each scream that escaped through her mouth. 

 

Meanwhile, Misty came running with a tri-toned colored towel and Indra smiled gratefully at her daughter, reaching out to receive the towel.

 

She wrapped it around the wet shivering child and while she took a pitiful glance at her friend's child, she couldn't believe Fiona had left this happen. 

 

Cordelia nestled deep in Indra's embrace, secretly craving her own mother's. She wondered what it would take for her own mother to love her like that. The sun shone through the towel in orange hues and she felt it move through her hair, soaking up every droplet of water it could.

 

"Fuckin' Fiona," the child heard her auntie mutter heavily under her breath. Other than that, her ears cleared and she could hear the men shouting behind them as they entered the main house once again. The towel dropped off onto the floor after a few steps, and she felt them bend down to get it. 

 

Her painful cries have now subsided into tearful sobs as they moved into the house and away from the commotion. 

 

"Fiona," the end of the woman's voice was raised in a higher pitch. 

 

They rose up the stairs gracefully, Cordelia felt like she was on a rollercoaster that only went up.

 

###

 

With Indra's both hands full with Cordelia, Misty ran ahead to open the bedroom door. 

 

"Fiona are ya' fuckin' kiddin' me right now," Indra looked at Cordelia's mother who was sprawled out on the large arm chair by mirror, obviously drunk. The doctor took deep breaths to prevent herself from kicking her friend out of her daze right there and then.

 

"Fiona Goode, ya' wake up," Indra closed her eyes, hoping that that would buy her some patience. 

 

"What is it..." the wispy blonde drawled lazily, opening one eye but averting all eye contact, "Can't you see-"

 

"Fiona, ya' snap out of this  _ now _ ," the urgency in Indra's voice was evident, "Cordelia's hurtin'. Ya'..." Even Indra was at a lost of words. Fiona's head pounded from both the alcohol and questions.

 

"What's wrong with her?" Fiona finally sighed after digesting the given information for a beat.

 

She roused fully from her intoxicatedness, standing up to almost match the height of her friend. 

 

Indra pulled the Koala-like Cordelia from her lanky body and pushed the child flushed against Fiona's hot body, causing the latter to shoot fully awake from the touch of cold and wet limbs. Cordelia wrapped her hands tightly onto her mother's shoulders, fist clenching the black fabric into tight balls.

 

She could smell the lingering scent of alcohol paired with a perfume she couldn't recognise. 

 

"What's wrong with her," Fiona's voice suddenly grew urgent like her friend's, "Why is she so cold?" Fiona reached up to feel her daughter's forehead.

 

"Why is she crying?" she asked again, searching blue eyes for answers.

 

"Ask ya'self what kind of a man ya' brought home first. And then ask ya'self what kind of a fuckin' responsible mother ya' are ta' leave ya' child- Precious Cordelia… How could ya'?" Indra choked up on her words. "He sprayed her down wit' ta' garden hose on at full power. If I had gotten there any later…. How could'ya sleep through her screamin'? She was screamin' ya' name over and over… I… Fiona… Ya'..."

 

Fiona's mouth grew agape as she let the thought set in. Before she could conjure a reply, she felt a warm wet patch begin to grow on her hips. It took her awhile to get what was happening.

 

Cordelia had wet herself.

 

"Delia, it's fine. It's fine," she began as soon as she felt her daughter shaking in her arms. 

 

The warm liquid travelled down Fiona's taut calves before coming to a rest on the floor in the form of a small puddle. Cordelia couldn't even make up words anymore. She tried to stop her pee mid-stream but she couldn't. 

 

A frown grew and grew until the pretty face buckled once again. And so she broke into a fit of tears that joined the rest on her face that haven't yet dried. The salt from her tears burned through embarrassed cheeks. 

 

The shock seeped deep into her skin as did the water. Pain and all, too. But in all her agony, she felt relieved to have her mother so close.

 

Brown into brown, they stared. And Cordelia did the unthinkable, looking away, guilty almost as she averted her eyes from her mother's suddenly soft ones. She searched for childish blue eyes instead. How could her mother have not heard her cries? _Did her mother not love her?_

 

Misty looked up into wary brown eyes and thought about what her teacher said today. About God and Him loving all of his children equally. Her inexperienced mind failed to wrap around the concept of pain as love. But the abstract thought was forgotten as quickly as it came. 

 

Fiona and Indra both looked on as something passed between the children. Fiona looked at the curly blonde and she saw innocence. Brown eyes that were supposed to be alike blue ones. The eyes of a child…

 

In her own daughter's, she found haunted ones. 

 

When brown eyes looked back at her, they dilated and became wet. And for a flash, they seemed almost childlike again. Until the torment returned like an unforgiving wave, any hope of guileless washed away with it. 

 

Cordelia pressed her damp head against her mother's cheek in an effort to get closer. Fiona was shocked at the gesture at first but eased softly into it, wrapping her hands tighter around the 5 year old.

 

"Mummy," her young daughter bawled, switching the usual 'Mother' for something much more intimate, a word that tugged at the mother's heartstrings. 

 

Fiona's eyes grew wide at that simple word. 

 

And her heart subsequently broke into innumerable pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to bring Misty's religion into this story to beef up her part of the story up because I wanted her to be more than just an anchor for Cordelia. This is written to be one of their defining moments, Fiona with reference to her relationship with Cordelia, vice versa, while Misty's with God. I hope you liked it! Side note: my new tumblr is @abigw !!


	7. What Ever Happened To Fiona Goode: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reading!

_ [Therapy Session 1] _

 

"Good morning, Cordelia," Zoe said, pulling her clipboard into her chest as she stood up slightly to adjust her dress. Cordelia sat in the comfy armchair opposite the room.

 

The blonde looked around, slightly bewildered by all the new sights and smells. Zoe's office smelled like sweet nectar. "Is Misty's office as big as yours?" She finally said after a beat, looking at the doctor. 

 

"No, because she doesn't see patients in them," the psychiatrist smiled.

 

"Oh," the shorter blonde frowned and stared down at the beige carpet that travelled throughout the room. Her fingers wrapped around the cast on her left forearm, "Misty says we're going to be painting on it later."

 

"She said that? That must be nice. She's as good with the paintbrush as she is with the scalpel."

 

"Really? She used to be bad at it," Cordelia confessed. She recalled their art classes back when they were younger and moved her gaze from the floor to the windows.

 

Zoe tapped her pen again the clipboard, waiting for a minute before finally initiating a question, "So you want to tell me how today was?"

 

Cordelia's frowned deepened slightly more before she stood up and walked to the wooden built in book shelf behind her, "Today hasn't been much. We woke up late and had br-unch, I think that's what they call it now. A meal between breakfast and lunch? Misty then sent me here in the car. She's outside waiting."

 

"It's called brunch, yes. Are there any plans after this?" 

 

The patient shook her head, "No, I don't think so. But I noticed that Misty ate the last of the bagels today. She's definitely going to get some later. So maybe a trip to the grocery store. Is there one around here?"

 

"There's one down sunset boulevard," the doctor wrote something on the clipboard, "You are very observant. What made you notice that it was the last bagel?"

 

Cordelia turned back to the doctor and chuckled, as though she couldn't believe Zoe had just asked her the question. She shook her head again. "She makes this snort when she realizes it's the last of them. She's liked them since I met her. That was a really long time ago."

 

"And how do you feel about that?"

 

"About what?" She asked, her fingers coming to a rest on one of the books.

 

Zoe readjusted her seating position, "About being apart for so long."

 

"Oh, nothing really," she shrugged.

 

"I'm sure you feel something," Zoe prompted.

 

The blonde patient picked out a book from the shelves, "Aren't all these books really dry to read?" She showed the title to the doctor,  _ Psychology: From Inquiry To Understanding.  _ "Sounds boring. Maybe I wouldn't have become a psychiatrist afterall."

 

"You wanted to be a psychiatrist?"

 

"Yes." Her thumb tapped on the spine of the thick book.

 

"What made you want to be a psychiatrist?"

 

Cordelia shoved the book back into the shelf, causing it the bang onto the wood behind, "Sorry." She averted the question.

 

Zoe smiled again, "No, it's fine. So, other than bagels, is there anything else you want to do today?"

 

"Not unless Misty has something planned. I don't really know the town. It's fancy, though. But I don't feel safe." Her back was still to the doctor, her eyes continued to scan the bookshelf for boring titles.

 

She could hear the doctor's fountain pen scribble something on the rough paper. The room was _ that _ silent. "Maybe you could have Misty show you around, then? Will that make you feel safer?" Zoe finally suggested after thirty seconds.

 

"I don't think anything makes me feel safe anymore."

 

"What makes you think that is that so?"

 

Cordelia spun around to meet inquisitive brown eyes. "I think when you've been locked up for the better part of your life, you wouldn't feel safe too."

 

"Do you feel safe at Misty's house?"

 

“Yea… No...” Cordelia changed her answer and thought for a while before she spoke again with more certainty, "No. No, I don't think so."

 

###

 

"Hey, what kinda' bagels do ya' want?" Misty asked a she pointed at the bagel section in the grocer. They indeed headed there after the therapy session. There hadn't been a talk about the therapy session.

 

Just lingering worried eyes that watched the shorter blonde's every movement.

 

"Blueberry?" Cordelia replied in a questioning manner, "Your favourite?"

 

The tall blonde looked up from the basket of bagels, directly into brown eyes, "I thought ya' didn't like those?"

 

"I can't really remember what they taste like. Maybe I'll like them now," she said in a monotonous manner, before gently pushing past Misty to get to the baskets, picking out the blue specked ones. She placed about half a dozen into the basket her friend was holding and forced a smile. 

 

Misty forced a slight smile back too, watching as her beloved friend walked off without another word, rounding the aisle.

 

The Cajun thought for a while, picking up another half dozen more bagels and placing them gently into the basket, unsmiling. Just as she was about to walk off, she turned back and replace three blueberry ones with… Her fingers froze as they hovered over the multiple flavours. A pang of guilt hit her as she could no longer recall what was the shorter blonde's favourite flavor.

 

The thought brought back long buried memories.

 

All except the one on Cordelia's favourite bagel.

 

###

 

Misty quickened her pace as she walked around the shelves, expecting to find Cordelia wandering along them. She hummed another Stevie song under her breath, though she failed to find her blonde friend in the next aisle. She watched a mother tell a child off.

 

As they walked away, she was greeted by an eerie silence.  _ Must be on the next aisle.  _ She assured herself and made a mental note to tell Cordelia not to wander off too far.

 

Her hands picked out a bottle of peanut butter spread and placed it into the basket before moving on.

 

No sign of Cordelia again. Her humming stopped and she grew serious.

 

She checked the next aisle, pale and with a clenched jaw. 

 

No one. 

 

Her hands lowered the basket into a corner next to one of the shelves and wrung them together.

 

Before her mind could process it, her heart was ordering her legs to work double time, walking around in loops, hoping that her eyes would be able to spot the familiar head of blonde somewhere. She tried not to think of the worst that could happen but the thoughts pulsated in her mind, leaving her breathless. 

 

Three more quick steps and she nibbled on her fingers, a habit she had since they were young.

 

Her arm muscles felt tight as they finally flailed around every woman with blonde hair, turning each one around in an anxious flurry. Fear fed off her anxiety, causing cold sweat to break out all over her back as she failed to find her friend after the next five aisles.

 

The panic bird was knocking on her chest rapidly, ready to be let out.

 

Another two steps and she was spinning around like a madman. She felt the need to move without any end. And her eyes grew slightly teary. She sniffled.

 

Feet walked her around lost and aimless though her thoughts were racing each other.  _ Should she start searching from the entrance? Or should she start from where she was now? Would she miss a spot? Had she missed a spot?  _

 

She kissed her knuckles in an attempt to calm herself, taking in a deep breath.  _ Where would Cordelia be? Where would Cordelia be? _

 

She spun around again, surveying every corner she could possibly see but the surroundings were a blur.

 

Already, her mind was running through every bad thing that could be happening to Cordelia, her heart rate accelerating to dangerous levels.

 

Her fingers fumbled clumsily with the back pocket of her jeans, finding the cell phone she had been looking for. Dialing for the only person she knew could help, she frantically searched around again, with the phone on her ear, feeling weak in the legs.

 

"What's it, darling? I was in the middle of playing my theremin," Myrtle's soft cough came through. Her voice always sounded like she was on the edge of an asthma attack.

 

"Cordelia's missing, Auntie," Misty breathed heavily into the phone, "What do I do? What do I do?" She repeated the question twice, and blinked her tears away and sniffled heavily.

 

"Missing? What do you mean she's missing?" She could hear Myrtle trying not to freak out on the other end of the phone, "Where are you?"

 

"At the Grocer's. One minute she was here. I looked away for just ta’ second. Just one second. An' she was gone," the Cajun forced strangled words out of her throat. Her hand ran through her thick weave of hair, pushing it out of her face.

 

She made her way towards the dairy section. 

 

"Take a deep breath, Misty," Myrtle said.

 

The bright yellow fluorescent hurt her eyes after she stared at them for too long, wishing her friend would just materialize from the cartons of milk in the open fridge. Her hands swept away another stray strand of hair again, turning towards the very end of the aisle, squinting.

 

She spotted a lady in the same shirt Cordelia was wearing today, a tumble of blonde curls that ended just below collarbones, looking golden against pale skin.

 

"Cordelia!" Misty ran over to the blonde back facing her, footsteps heavy and she almost slipped on the smooth flooring. She spun Cordelia around sharply, her fingers making red imprints on the shorter blonde's skin. Cordelia's slight smile immediately grew into a frown and she looked at blue eyes. Eyes she never thought would hurt her. 

 

Misty, in all her nervousness, however, seemed to wrap her fingers tighter around Cordelia's upper arm, her other one still on the phone which Myrtle was still yapping away in. She subsequently shoved Myrtle into her pocket.

 

"Dee! Where have ya' been? Do ya' know how worried I was? How can ya' just walk away?!”

 

Cordelia seemed to shrink from Misty’s touch, pulling away more and more. She looked at her Cajun friend with disbelieving eyes. Anxiety grabbed her by the tongue, disallowing her from replying. 

 

“What's wrong?” Misty asked, although it came through as more of an acquisition. 

 

The shorter blonde recognized her Cajun friend but the rough actions scared her and her gaze alternated between the growing redness on her arm and icy blue eyes. The fear consumed her nonetheless and she went limp in Misty's grip, stomach lurching.

 

The both lowered to the floor onto their knees, Misty's strength slowing the impact. 

 

Cordelia clenched her fists, trying to calm herself. Her pearly whites ground against each other as Misty move to hold her fists instead.

 

"Are you two okay?"  a fellow shopper asked, concerned by the two women who were not crouched down on the floor. 

 

Misty looked up with slightly teary eyes. "Yea, we are. We are. She just needs some time," the Cajun confirmed, sending a forced smile towards a crowd which had formed around them. 

 

"Cordelia, ya' okay right?" she checked with the shorter blonde. Cordelia had her chin tucked into her own neck. If her hands weren't restricted by Misty, she would' ve pulled them over her face. But Misty held on tight.

 

The doctor watched as Cordelia slowed her breaths in an effort to not make any sound. She wanted to tell Cordelia that it was going to be okay. But the phrase now grew boring without any real meaning to it.

 

And they crouched there for what seemed like an eternity.

 

###

 

Misty tangled her hand in Cordelia's hair, pulling her head close to her chest. The shorter blonde felt impossible to feel stay anxious around the Cajun. After a while, they stood up, Cordelia still slightly weak in the knees.

 

Wordless, they walked in silence all the way to the open air parking lot with Misty's hand snaked around the shorter blonde's waist for support. 

  
  


_ Click.  _ The Audi unlocked and they parted solemnly at the head of the car, both easing into their seats before their hands joined again between their seats.

 

The curly blonde's touch on Cordelia soothed the dread that had settled in her, a wave of calmness washed over her and she allowed her eyes to be trained on the horizon that was in the distance. Her lips remained still, a little bit cracked.

 

The first question came, “Dee, I…”

 

Cordelia tuned out, listening to the pacing of the turn signal.  _ Click. Tock. Click. Tock.  _

 

It sounded like a broken clock, and she made it a point to pace her breathing with it. In, out. Misty turned onto the big street and the signal stopped. Cordelia felt lost for a second before the Cajun's husky voice brought her back.

 

"Have ya' been listenin' ta' what I said?"

 

Cordelia didn't turn to meet Misty's gaze. She simply shook her head, looking forward.

 

A hefty sigh was received. "That's alright," the taller blonde said, picking her eyes off Cordelia in a fatigued manner.

 

Cordelia wondered if this was a different route they had taken in the morning because it felt like she was living a whole new life with this one. She wanted to have the freedom to roam without getting lost and being in Misty's car felt something like that. But inside her, the loathing grew just by a little bit more every day.

 

Still, she allowed Misty's scent to fill her nostrils, reminding of the very comfort she used to take for granted when they were younger.

 

And silence returned to them like a good old friend. 

 

###

 

Myrtle stood at the door, welcoming them in as the cool slow beat of "Beautiful People Beautiful Problems" played behind her in the apartment. 

 

Cordelia retired into her room, leaving the taller blonde in the middle of the large living room to explain everything to the redhead. 

 

But Misty didn't bother. 

 

"Can ya' take care of Cordelia? I need ta' go somewhere," Misty said, turning her back to go out the still open front door. She left no explanation as she noisily pulled the drawer and picked her helmet out of it. 

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"I will be out for a while. Please keep her safe," Misty ignored the question and glanced at the closed bedroom door. She pulled her hair up into a quick french braid and placed the helmet snugly onto her head.

 

"Misty? Where are you going?" the redhead asked again, slightly worried.

 

"I'll be fine, Auntie. Don't ya' worry," Misty placed a comforting hand on Myrtle's shoulders, "I'll be fine..." she repeated to herself.

 

And she pulled the bike out of it's position, listening to the ding of the elevator. Myrtle chased her out into the hallway. "Misty!" she called out.

 

The tall doctor gave one last look at the redhead as she pushed the two wheels into the lift, nodding to say that she would be okay. 

 

But Myrtle remained skeptical until Misty disappeared behind the closing doors.

 

###

 

It was dangerous for her to be crying while biking. But with the roads all a blur, red light stretching into green light, she couldn't care any more than that. Her bike was casually placed against the brick walls like she had done this a million times before. 

 

The shadow of the building seemed to loom forever, engulfing the street in darkness while the rest of it remained lit in bright orange.

 

The sneakers were soundless against the old flooring, adding to the silence. The mood was solemn, and the church was empty.

 

She picked a seat near the exit, towards the end of the church and away from the alter. What she was about to do was nothing too good. She didn't need to be close to feel His presence.

 

Her knees plundered down onto the platform in front of her. As she placed her elbows on the chair, leaning forward, the wood dug deep into her delicate pale flesh. 

 

"I uhh..." she started, unsure where to start. Many years have passed since she stepped foot into a building of His. She wasn't even sure she was dressed properly for the occasion but that wasn't what she was here to seek clarity for. 

 

"Lord," her voice was a whisper, afraid to speak his name once again. "Remember all those years ago, when I told ya' 'bout ma' friend," she clasped her palms together like a prayer of some sort.

 

"Ta' one that went missin' an' I..." her throat felt way too dry to continue, "I told ya' uhh… If ya' were real, ya' would brin' her back ta' me. Ta' us. Well, umm… She's back."

 

She tilted her head skywards, blinking back hard tears, "She's back," her voice faltered, "But um… It's been 18 years, 18 fuckin'-" she inhaled sharply at the curse word. Blue eyes screwed shut in an attempt to will herself through the heavy ache that was ever growing in her chest. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, the sadness radiated through the empty church. "We all thought she was dead. Because 18 years… That's too long… Too cruel of ya'. An' she's all fucked up now an'... Maybe I wasn't clear in my prayer because I was scared an' most of all," she pressed her forehead forward into her interlocked hands, "I was still a child."

 

"So now, Lord," she spoke His name again, firmer.

 

"When she came back, I don't know if ya' heard me but I thanked ya'. I thanked ya' long and hard. But ya' made me almost lose her a second time..."

 

"Why?!" Her scream bounced off the walls, anger, grief and sadness filled her words.

 

Her heart throbbed dully inside her ribcage.

 

"18 years is too long a time. Why are ya' so cruel? Watchin' me suffer year in year out. Watchin' Fiona leave us all. Ya' took my mother and ya' took Cordelia… For a long time now, I thought perhaps, even ya' weren't in control of that. But I think… I think now I know that was ya' because, ya' answered my prayers. Ya' brought her back an' today, I can feel ya' presence more than ever."

 

Her clasped hands move to cover her face now, where free trails of tears were streaming down, leaving marks on her pretty face like a slug would on a leaf. There was a moment of silence as her tears still sipped through between her fingers and dripped down onto the wood. It was so silent she could almost hear them hit the wood. 

 

"But I uh… I don't think I'm gonna come back anymore. Ya' brought Dee back just to almost make me lose her again... This- There's… Simply nothin'... I waited 18 years… And ya'..." her words were trapped in her throat. 

 

"Please forgi-ve me…" the apology was cracked with a sob that she couldn't stop from escaping, pursing her lips to stop another wretched cry.

 

She couldn't explain it. Maybe it was the cruelness that prevented her from coming back, or simply just the memories that she'd thrown behind her, resurfacing as she was in this church. Either way, there was no persuading her to come back for she had made her mind. That said, she once swore she wouldn't step foot into a church, something 15 years ago, but here she was. It wasn't the same as when she was a child now though. So badly, she wanted to believe that God loved all His children equally, but this was not it. 

 

This  _ could not _ be it. 

 

Her weeping seemed to never end. 

 

"Please… If ya' love us all..." she cried out desperately.

 

"Don’t make me lose her ever again..."

 

###

 

Under the dim soft light of the setting sun, Misty biked on the smooth road of the highway, making her way back to the grocers. 

 

The fresh cool feeling of the AC rushed to her as the sliding doors welcomed her in.

 

She was made well aware of the mess she was when a child pointed at her, asking his mother why the lady looked so sad.

 

The mother turned beet red, embarrassed by her son's words but the Cajun assured her it was okay. And she walked away, back slumped, towards the section where they held the cream cheese. She took a bottle and put it in her basket. 

 

Then, some peanut butter as well. She remembered the basket she had left in a hurry at some corner next to a shelf but couldn't exactly remember where. She walked around a few times before giving up. There had been _ enough _ of searching today.

 

The world around her felt monotonous, a perfect day to blend in.

 

But between her running mascara and quivering lower lip, she looked desperate. Just like the thoughts running through her mind.

 

From afar, she spotted the bagels in the fresh grains section.

 

She made her way over and seemed to stare at them for a really,  _ really _ long time. 

 

Misty was made to think about Fiona if she wanted to remember which bagel flavor it was that Cordelia wanted. But she didn't want to think of Fiona. The only memory left of the woman were her  _ cold, lifeless eyes _ .

 

_ So many bad memories… _

 

She gawked at the bagels again, in deep thought. _ Perhaps _ , she thought. Perhaps if she stood here long enough, it would be like in the movies where the kind scriptwriter would reveal what it was. But this was no story. This was  _ her life _ .

 

In the end, she could not remember. The tall blonde simply made her way to the alcohol section and grabbed a chilled beer. Walked away before walking back to grab two more. Three should be enough to drown her sorrows.

 

She checked out and parked herself next to the homeless guy behind the store. "Ma'am, would you be so kind to offer me some food. I haven't got no food since two days ago." He asked, eyed her bag of bagels. "Of course, Sir, ya' should take more than just one," she said, offering her dozen bagels to him.

 

The beer popped and she let it the bitter taste rid her throat of its dryness. She offered a can to the man as well.

 

"Tough day today, lady?" the man asked her.

 

"Yea..." she breathed out.

 

"We've all got those days. But you know what? We're all not in control of that. You know what'll make you feel betta'? Doin' something that makes you feel like you can have some control over. It's why people drink, smoke, ruin' their bodies. But drink a little less tonight. Do somethin' else. Because, remember, God has plans for us all." 

 

Misty smiled politely at the man. 

 

"You okay, though, rite' lady? You not gonna' kill yourself tonight, rite'?"

 

"No," the doctor let out a soft chuckle, "No, not tonight."

 

"Okay, that gud'. You keep safe, lady." the aging man gave a toothless smile.

 

Misty looked up to the skies which had grown slightly darker, the sun melting rapidly into the background. She sat on the man's words for a while before pulling her phone out, dialing in a foreign number she had kept close to her heart.

 

"Monsieur Chante? [Mister Chante?] C'est moi, Misty. [It's me, Misty.] …… Oui. [Yes.] …… Les nouvelles de Fiona? [Any news on Fiona?] …… Si? [Is that so?] Why did ya' not call me earlier? ……"

 

Her eyes bulged at the information.

 

"Yes I know what I said! Goddamnit. Where is she? ……" 

 

She pushed herself off the ground, saluting the homeless man before she gathered up six bagels and left the rest for the man who smiled gratefully. As she stood next to her road bike, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She looked up to the sky again. Memories weighed heavy on her shoulders and she was sure this was yet another trick.

 

A breezy voice spoke next to her ear.  _ It's time, Misty. _

 

When she turned around, the homeless man was gone.

 

"Get Fiona on the phone with me. It's 'bout her daughter, Cordelia."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Fiona isn't dead...


	8. Cinnamon: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy reading!

"Cordelia is sick, baby. She can't play with you now," Ma frowned at her daughter who looked especially upset.

 

"But it been so long!" the unruly blonde whined, throwing her hands around in a fierce tantrum, "I hate ya'! I want ta' play wit' Dee!" She choked out a few crocodile tears that were supposed to make her mother listen to her.

 

"Misty, please," Indra begged her daughter to stop the whining. It was getting tiring attending to the complaints after four days straight. 

 

Shortly after the incident, Fiona, seething with anger, had ushered Joseph out of her house in a not so nice manner. Spalding threw him out together with his luggage and shut the front door. 

 

But in all of Fiona's efforts to make it up to Cordelia, the tiny blonde had started coughing uncontrollably a while later. At first, the three adults didn't think much about it, they had better things to talk about and soon, a fight between Indra and Fiona ensued about the implications of the latter being an irresponsible mother.

 

It wasn't until Cordelia had turned blue did Misty realize her friend was literally drowning on dry land. The water had gone into the little blonde's lungs. It was called aspiration, a word Misty couldn't possibly pronounce. The water was dirty, too and Cordelia inhaled it.

 

She was sent to the hospital in an ambulance. The adults called it bacterial pneumonia. Another two big words the small Cajun couldn't pronounce. Everything happened very fast and all Misty knew was that Cordelia hadn't been able to play with her since. Hell, she hadn't even seen Cordelia _ or Fiona _ since four days ago.

 

"Just five minutes! Five minutes!!" Misty tried again.

 

"Misty Day! I am telling ya' for ta' umpteenth time that Cordelia is sick. She can't play with ya'. Not for five minutes, not for one minute! Not even for a second, okay?!" Indra finally burst Misty's bubble, leaving her curly blonde daughter to cry for real this time.

 

"Papa..." She wailed out for her father who picked her up onto his lap. 

 

"Indie… It's still real early in the mornin'... Let's not do this, shall we?" Gilbert sighed, bouncing his daughter up and down his thighs, before making speeding car noises, tricking Misty into a quick game. The curly blonde was fast to forget about everything.

 

"Ya' don't know how long she's been whinin' about that," the mother retorted, looking pointedly at her husband.

 

"Maybe we should let her see Dellie," his chosen nickname for the girl was the cutest, "Maybe then, she will understand that her friend is sick. It's a good teaching moment too."

 

"It's the hospital, Gilbert, not'a playground or a classroom. And I don't want Misty getting sick-" 

 

Gilbert put his hand up to stop his wife, "Dellie is in peds. You know there's a whole separate entrance for that. She's not going to have to walk through the whole hospital." 

 

"I know. But she's got all the tubes an' all-"

 

"Misty is old enough. Right Mist? Tell your Mama you're a big girl!" He coaxed his daughter, stroking her blonde curls, his hand getting tangled in the untamable hair, giving a loud laugh when Misty shook her head in an effort to get rid of his hand.

 

"BIG GIIIIRL, MAMA!" She shouted triumphantly, pumping both fist in the air, "Me'a big girl!" 

 

Indra looked at her husband, sighing, "But Misty, ya' know Delia still can't play with ya' even if we go visit, right?" 

 

The tiny Cajun slid down from her Papa's lap like a spineless octopus, "Dee'll get well when she see me! I her happy pill, Mama!" She announced brightly before taking bouncy strides towards her foyer area where she kept her school bag.

 

In hushed words, Indra uttered, "Gilbert, are ya' sure we wanna' do this? She's only five." Her eyes were filled with worry, looking at her husband who seemed slightly more indifferent about the matter. 

 

He took in all the worry from her by taking his wife's hands in his, "You heard her Indie. She's a big girl, I'm confident she'll be alright. What do you say?" 

 

There was a pitter patter before the sound of Misty's voice reached them both. "Mama! Papa! Look. It drawing of Dee!" The curly blonde held up the drawing high enough for the adults to look. It was the same stickman she had drawn during Bible class the previous Sunday. She wore her smile proudly.

 

"Fine," Indra conceded, eyeing her husband who gave a big smile. She then gestured for her daughter t come closer, "Now, let's see what ya' have there darlin'."

 

###

 

Misty looked up at all the adults who were marching around the hospital hallway. Still years before her first growth spurt, she stood only up till the mid-waists of her parents. The hospital seemed less cheery than she thought it would be and her nose crinkled in disgust at the smell of disinfectant that was very evident in the surrounding air.

 

A clean tang she would eventually get used to smelling in her later years.

 

Her small fingers gripped tightly onto the drawing she had brought for her friend to see.  _ Perhaps, after Dee see it, she be really, really happy and she finally play with me, _ Misty thought, her lips curled into a slight smile at the thought.

 

Another hand held onto two stuffed teddy bears. One was a plain beige teddy from her bedroom. The other, from the gift shop on the first level and it was pink. 

 

When Misty picked it out, she wanted to get a navy blue little bear that would look so nice in her endless collection of plushies. But her mother reminded her that this was for Cordelia, not herself! Thus, they left the shop with what she thought was a disgusting pink teddy because Cordelia liked pink and she didn't. 

 

_ It easier to give away, then _ , she thought.

 

Indra ushered Misty by the head down the stiff hallway. 

 

Even with its bright murals around what her mother called the "Peds Ward", Misty found them to be feigned, for so much sadness and darkness seemed to inhabit the entire length of it. But even so, she did not let the smile slip from her face. Cordelia would be fine. She would be just fine.

 

Gilbert trailed behind them all, providing the blonde mother with a soothing touch on the shoulder for reassurance. 

 

The mother bent down, turning the small Cajun daughter to face her and said, "Misty, I want ya' ta' remember that Dee… Dee is sick, okay? She may not be conscious now," looking deep into dark blue eyes in search of any understanding.

 

Misty tilted her head questioningly.

 

"What is con-si-ous?"

 

Indra sighed, looking back at Gilbert, silently telling him that their daughter was again, too young to be here.

 

"Well, Misty," His voice was a contrast to Indra's light words, "Dellie may not be awake now. So maybe she can't play with you." 

 

"Okie," the child blubbered, unknowing of the weight her father's words carried.

 

The parents stood up and pushed the door to the single hospital room open.

 

###

 

The hospital room did indeed look more like a hotel room with its hand sewed leather chairs, high-end paintings, and vases of flowers that were on every table. 

 

Fiona was sleeping in one of the armchairs and there was a red haired woman in the other, doing crochet, her sharp hands moving the needle in, out and across the wool. 

 

There was soft classical music playing in the background, interrupted by the regular beeping of the machines that Misty's eyes were glued onto. 

 

"Myrtle Snow," Her mother hugged the woman tightly.

 

"Indra," the woman greeted back formally, glancing back at Cordelia's sleeping mother, "Fiona needed me. So here I am."

 

Myrtle acknowledged her friend's husband with a slight nod.

 

From where she stood, she could only see that her friend was lying on a very tall, scary looking bed with machines overlooking her tiny frame like the grim reaper would a dead body. 

 

The end of the paper her hand was gripping onto became crumpled under her tight grasp and she pulled the teddys impossibly close to her chest.

 

"Dee!" her meek voice was just loud enough to wake up Fiona. As the wispy blonde roused from her slumber, her eyes followed Misty who was jumping up and down, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friend. 

 

But instead, another thing caught Misty's eye.

 

A chest tube drain that was hanging off the side of the bed, filled with bloodied fluids that she could not see the source from. She went stiff until Gilbert walked over to help his little girl, pulling her up under her arms while her thin lanky legs wrapped around his waist.

 

From where she was now, she could see her tiny friend under an array of blankets,  _ not conscious.  _ "Dee!" she tried calling out again in a harsh voice, hoping her friend might peep an eye open. But Cordelia remained deathly still. 

 

Only the rise and fall of her chest indicated otherwise.

 

Cordelia's skin was almost a grotesque gray, the color of the moon at night. And her lips that were wrapped around the intubation tube was an impossible pale.

 

The tube she had failed to notice at first suddenly became a foreign object that obstructed the view of her friend's face.

 

Indra, as every doctor would do, walked over to the IV drip stand and checked on the prescription. Fiona walked over to speak to her friend with tired eyes. 

 

"They're keeping her sedated for now," Fiona reported remorsefully, almost choking out her words, "She had a bad day yesterday. There's still too much fluids in her lungs."

 

"Cordelia!" the full name slipped from Misty's tongue. But her friend still failed to respond and the young Cajun couldn't stop a frown from forming on her face. Her breaths grew shallow, just like her friends before moving to rapid, and then ragged. The paper fluttered from her grip, coming to rest on the floor.

 

In the end, it was almost like a panting gasp as her mind failed to conjure up the meaning of why her friend was still asleep. "Deeeeeee!" Her whines were louder, more possessive now, beckoning for Cordelia to wake up this instant. 

 

She felt her eyes grow blur with angry tears that threatened to spill at any moment now. Her mouth in a contorted frown as though she was letting out a voiceless scream.

 

"Why Dee no wake up? Dee wake up NOW!" she yelled out the last word in a fit of pique. The anger in her rose to an impossible level that everyone did not expect in a 5-year-old child.

 

"Dee wake up NOW!!" The young Cajun was screaming by now. Before her father could stop the seething anger from rising any further, Misty maxed out and she threw the pink teddy directly at her friend's head. It all happened very quickly and no one was quick enough to stop it from happening.

 

The teddy bear flew with all the force of a five-year-old's throw and Cordelia was at the receiving end of Misty's wrath. Cordelia's head tilted at impact, causing her heart rate to rise. Even in her unconsciousness, she must have felt the alarming blow. 

 

Fiona was quick by her daughter's bedside, readjusting Cordelia's head as her daughter's heart rate began to lower steadily. Myrtle's hands traveled to her mouth to cover it in shock while Indra gave a loud gasp. "Misty Day! What are ya'-" 

 

But before she could rain a whole lecture down on the little Cajun, Misty burst out at her father like a tornado. There were no warnings as she began to struggle furiously in her father's arm, wriggling until her father had no choice but to put her down. Her eyebrows were furrowed deeply, and her ears were folded from hearing any soothing words that her parents were showering her with.

 

Gilbert put her down and then lifted her up again as she threw her head back in protest, almost falling backward out of his strong hold.

 

Her legs were kicking the air like they were her enemy. All of a sudden, she took a little pause, just long enough to turn around to see if her friend had responded to her tantrum. Fiona had her hands cupped over her daughter's head and Cordelia's eyes were still closed. 

 

When Misty realized there was still no movement from Cordelia, the look of anger that she gave her sick friend was almost enough to break any adult's heart. 

 

Within milliseconds, she was back to thrashing around, all the blood from her heart rushing to her face to cause a red flush that grew from her forehead, all the way downwards onto her chest. She let out strangled shrieks.

 

Gilbert struggled to hold on to his child, bending himself at the knees so that if she did manage to wriggle out of his grasp, it would be a shorter drop to the floor. He moved away from the bed when he feet started kicking the sides of it.

 

"Misty! You'll get hurt," He tried to communicate with her but her ears were deaf.

 

Her primal mind spasmed with desperation.

 

The entire room was filled with her cries and tears were streaming down her face as if someone had tortured her and she banged her head against her father's chest repeatedly, arms flailing around helplessly. 

 

The piece of paper drawing fluttered down from her grip but she still held the beige teddy bear tight.

 

Even with Misty's loud crying, Cordelia did not even stir.

 

Misty's blouse was raised above her belly, barely covering anything at all as all the fabric bunched up around her chest, her father's tight grip pushing it up further above as she began to slid down towards the floor.

 

Indra could stand it no longer and picked the girl away from her husband's arms, somehow holding Misty close to her own body even with the struggles. Saliva bubbled around Misty's mouth as she grew tired of her choked crying. She now simply whimpered and wailed.

 

A pretty nurse came into the room to check what in the world was happening and Indra saw the open door as an escape as she brought the child outside.

 

As they exited from the door that the nurse held open for them, Misty let her outstretched hands linger in the room, closer to Cordelia and she threw her teddy bear in the direction of the bed as a futile attempt to stay grounded.

 

Gilbert caught it mid air as he watched his wife and child disappear around the corner.

 

###

 

As soon as they were out in the hallway, Indra moved quickly towards the nurses' station and put Misty on the floor on her both feet, making sure she stood properly.

 

"Mama..." she cried out, plonking down onto the floor in rebellion, silent tears were still free falling from her eyes down her beet red face. Indra pulled Misty up sternly and fixed her daughter's clothes proper, ignoring her pleas.

 

"Don't Mama me now, Miss Day. No daughter of mine will act this way. Until ya' get ya'self together, ya'  _ will not  _ move from this spot, is that clear?" And Indra re-entered the room, leaving her daughter to cry there alone but not without the watchful eyes of neighboring nurses who watched the pitiful whimpering of the tiny Cajun.

 

Misty pressed the back of her head against the brown colored counter and she pressed her sticky hands together. Her eyes dilated beneath the sheet of tears.

 

Salty drops dripped from her quivering chin and onto her already drenched shirt.

 

A few seconds passed and she thought her mother would've returned by now but she did not. In the sea of nurses who were wearing white, she stuck out like a sore thumb in her navy summer blouse and shorts.

 

She watched the door of the hospital room until her world grew dizzy with tears.

 

And she stood there for what seemed like forever, until she cooled down and even then, there were no signs of her mother appearing from the door.

 

It was only until a whole episode of sesame street had played on the shared tv monitor in the waiting area did door opened and the redhead woman stepped out and walked towards her.

 

"My, my, Misty darling…" Her soft hands were on Misty's face in no time, wiping away tears drops that clung onto the little Cajun's face. "You know what you did wrong? Do you?" Myrtle asked in a soft, high pitched voice. 

 

Misty shook her head.

 

"Oh, my dear Misty. Let's see… Do you remember when you were sick? With the flu or fever or something? How did you feel?"

 

"Very-ry Tir-ed," Misty managed to hiccup.

 

"Yea... So when you were down with the common flu, you felt tired and didn't want to play right? I'm sure your Mama wouldn't let you either, am I right?"

 

The young Cajun nodded.

 

"Well, Co-delia, she's very sick now. Very, very sick. So she can't play with you, do you understand now? And you threw the teddy bear at her because she wouldn't get up. That was very mean of you. If… If someone did that to you when you were feeling icky and sick, how would you feel?"

 

"Pain an' sad," she replied solemnly.

 

Myrtle smiled and patted the Cajun's head, "You see now what you did wrong?"

 

"Y-ea..." her voice cracked in the end, her eyes brimming with tears once again at the thought that she hurt her friend who was very, _ very  _ sick.

 

"Now, now, as long as you know what you did wrong," Myrtle said as she swept her thumb across of the young blonde's cheeks, "Let's see… Maybe  _ bagels _ would make a great sorry present?" 

 

Misty's face lit up at the two syllable word.

 

"Let me tell you a secret, how does that sound?" Myrtle bent forward and whispered into Misty's ear, "I heard from Fiona that Cordelia really likes her cinnamon raisin bagels. What do you say if we go get them from the bakery across the street?"

 

"At my favorite bac-kery?" Misty's eyes shimmered.

 

"Yes, at your favorite bakery, dear."

 

"Okay M-m-mer-"

 

"Auntie Myrtle," the redhead smiled.

 

"Dee like cin-mon rye-sin bagels! I like blu-berrry," Misty finally gave a toothy smile, "I like ya', Au-tie Mertle." She proclaimed, pouncing on the redhead who chuckled.

  
"But bagel _ first _ ," Misty said in a knowledgeable voice, "Bagel _ first _ ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia's favourite bagel flavour: Cinnamon Raisin. Let's hope Misty does remember it somewhere down the road!


	9. Cinnamon: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

Misty stood together with a whirlwind of emotions.

 

_ Ah! Mademoiselle Misty, you must understand… Je ne t'ai pas appelé parce que tu m'as dit de ne pas te déranger. [I hadn't called you because you had told me not to bother you anymore.]  _

 

She checked her phone. 9 missed calls from Myrtle.

 

Using her sleeves to wipe at her leaky nose, the Cajun looked back up at the stars that signaled it was the very start of the next day already. The pitch black blanket above her felt surreal.

 

Her phone mirrored the darkness as it fell back into its perpetual slumber, tucked into her back pocket as it waited until it was to be awakened again.

 

The moon, fueled by the very magnificent sun that lit the other half of the world, felt false. It was like a faded replacement of the sun that couldn't light up this half of the world.

 

The time on her watch whispered and told her it was time to go home for she had been standing in this very parking lot for the past 6 hours since the sun had set.

 

Hot tears in her eyes burned till there were no more fuel, yet they kept burning, keeping her from blinking too quick for fear that they would dislodge themselves from the comfortable place where they sat together with the whites and blue hues of her eyes.

 

The sky kept on plummeting, darker and darker even though there couldn't possibly be a shade darker than the one at the ungodly hour she was in right now. Likewise, her heart kept dropping. Again and again.

 

She better have a good explanation for Myrtle.

 

_ Je voulais vous appeler plus tôt… [I wanted to call you earlier…] When I finally found Fiona, she was with Monsieur Joséph. At your mère's old maison [mother's old house]. Vous devez venir en Paris pour voir par vous-même. [You need to come to Paris to see for yourself.] You were very angry when I called last time so I didn't dare call anymore. _

 

She hopped onto her road bike, making the last dial for her home phone through her earpiece.

 

It rang until the call went into voice mail and she heard her own voice. 

 

_ "Yer've reached Day but ya' seem ta' be callin' at a bad time! Leave a message an' I'll call ya' back A.S.A.P.! Busy savin' some lives! Au Revoir! [Goodbye!]" _

 

_ Beep. _

 

"Hey Auntie Myrtle, it's me, Misty. Ya' don't have ta' worry. I'm still out. Probably gonna be out till sunrise tomorrow. I'll call ya' when I can again," she spoke into the speaker, the gentle night breeze making crackling noises as it caressed both her face and the speaker piece. In a harsh whisper, she added softly, "I think I've found Fiona."

 

_ Beep. _

 

And she allowed the wind to show her the direction she would be headed for.

 

_ Je vous enverrai tout ce que j'ai trouvé dans une minute. [I'll send you everything I have found in a minute.]  _

 

The wind blew her hair south.

 

###

 

Her legs pedaled tirelessly, working her muscles overtime as she carried both her weight and the bicycle's all the way to the beach that was famous for it's celebrity sightings. 

 

By the time she was there, even the crickets had stopped singing.

 

Her pants were the only thing that stopped silence from being too overwhelming to her ears. 

 

Inside her ear, her fragile heart beat rapidly.

 

The beach was washed over from its former glory hours. Dark blue waves crashing only plain brown sand under the extremely limited lighting. Sand mounds and castles from children's play littered the otherwise straight beach.

 

Who knew beaches would look like graveyards in the dead of the night?

 

She allowed the battered sand to seek comfort in her shoes as she slowly sank each foot into the sandy dunes, allowing the inky water to kiss the tip of her covered shoes.

 

The moon was reflected in the calm waters and for a moment there, Misty couldn't tell if the world had gone upside down or she was simply feeling light-headed with memories once again. 

 

Checking the time against where the stars floated, she could tell it was already morning in France. 

 

With shaky hands, she roused her iPhone from its sleep.

 

Her finger pad tapped out a number she had been given earlier by Chante, the detective cum friend she had hired to follow Fiona all those years ago when she left without even a simple goodbye.

 

Another exhale before she brought the phone up to her ears.

 

It rung for a solid eight times before there was a click.

 

"Whoever this is," the woman's sleepy curt voice was evident even after almost two decades, "It's too early to be calling."

 

###

 

Cordelia woke up like someone had stabbed her in the heart.

 

She suddenly thought of her mother whom she had somehow managed to forget. She had forgotten her voice and her touch. 

 

Her legs swung over to the side of the bed, a move she hadn't done in many years. Instead of putting on her home slippers, she stood up straight, unwavering. Her right hand instinctively wrapped around her cast, protecting it from any more harm that could be done to it.

 

When she looked out of the lengthy windows, her eyes caught a small building that hadn't yet closed its doors. It was so far away that the smoke it emitted looked less like smolders and more like the snaking vapor of a burning cigarette.

 

The inkiness in her mind splashed over Fiona and gave way to the one person she yearned to forget.

 

_ Hank Foxx. _

 

She wondered where he was now. Probably rotting in prison with other convicts. Yet, somehow, she missed him. His touch seemed to be the only thing that could fill her with so much dread and so much calmness. 

Blindly, she gawked at the box beneath her dresser.

 

She walked over and gave it a big kick, causing it to bang straight into the wall behind her, startling Myrtle awake in the next room.

 

"Co-delia?" Myrtle's sleepy voice was raised as Cordelia heard heavy footsteps on the outside of her room, "Delia?" 

 

_ Cordelia Goode. _ That was not her. She was Lynette Renard. She hated the name Cordelia. It was so pretentious that her mother had named her that. Why did Fiona have to name her something she could never possibly live up to. 

 

She was neither pretty nor ugly. She was everything in between. Average. That's what he called her. There were no exquisitely sculpted bones God had blessed her with. Her body was just made up of scars she collected over the years. 

 

Everything about her was made to blend in.

 

Yet, Hank saw something no one else saw.

 

She later found out it was her ordinariness that had caused her to fall into the clutches of her captor. 

 

_ (Cordelia's flashback) _

 

_ "Happy birthday Lynette," Hank's crooked smile was mirrored with hers. _

 

_ "It's my birthday today?" She asked, moving forward as far as her shackles would allow her. She basked in the sunlight that was let in from the top trap door before he closed it. _

 

_ "You turn twelve today, Lyn," From a paper bag, he pulled out the most beautiful cupcake she had ever seen. A smile grew on her face. It must be summer now for her birthday fell in the summer.  _

 

_ He scooted closer to her, closing the distance between them before caressing her face. "I was so close to picking your friend. Maesty? Is that what her name is?"  _

 

_ "I've forgotten, sir," She replied meekly, looking down at the cupcake. _

 

_ "Whatever. The one with the bright wavy blonde hair. But you're so lucky I picked you instead. She… Was too much trouble. Feisty. You on the other hand," He placed a dirty finger under her chin, "You, my dear are so ordinary. If there was a girl the park wouldn't realize was missing, it would be you. Now eat up." _

 

_ Cordelia wanted to savor every moment of this. Her meals usually consisted of leftover food Hank didn't want anymore. _

 

_ She took the first bite, letting the taste of red velvet sink deep into her tongue. With a deep breath, the taste became even more overwhelming. _

 

_ "Come on now, Lyn. We don't have all day. Once you're done, lay on the bed. You know what to do, right?"  _

 

_ With that, her heart sank as her eyes sparkled with tears, _

 

_ It was her twelfth birthday. _

 

_ And the sun would set that night and it would rise again tomorrow, the day after and every day after that. _

 

_ (End of flashback) _

 

Myrtle was peeping into the room through the slightly ajar door now. "Everything okay, baby bird?" Her sweet, sweet voice was like salvation to Cordelia.

 

The blonde nodded hastily, brushing aside the memory.

 

"Is Misty home?" she asked instead, bending down to pull the box out, fixing it back into its previous position. 

 

"No, I don't think so. Now that you've reminded me about that, I ought to see if she's left me a message." As the redhead clacked away on the heels she still wore in the house, at night, Cordelia put her hand into the darkness of the box, feeling around for memories.

 

Her fingers ran over something fluffy and soft. She knew what it was without even having to take a look at it. It was the pink bear Misty had gotten her when she was in the hospital. Or it was a replica of it since she lost it on a train when they were seven. 

 

She dug her fingernails into the fluff, gripping it so tightly it would've died. And then she let go, leaving it to float in the box. She didn't want to look at it. 

 

Her hand hovered left of where she had left the bear, knocking into something hard at the bottom. 

 

Then, she pulled the unremarkable notebook.

 

Black but not dusty and she wondered if Misty opened it from time to time. But it was in a box. Boxes had two uses. To contain the pains of a heart and to keep dust out.

 

So that must be it.

 

The notebook was dull, not too thick. Just heavy with words; but still relatively unmemorable.

 

_ Just like her. _

 

She recognized it to be her old journal. An expensive Moleskine she had begged Mother for all those years ago. 

 

Standing up with the book heavy in her palm, she felt the urge to write something in it, recalling that she never got to finish this book. At the thought, she loitered out into the spacious hallway and traveled to the room adjacent to hers. 

 

She had seen it a few times before but she had never actually been in it.

 

Now that she's seen it, Misty's home library was something made in dreams.

 

Immediately, Cordelia could tell that the room was meant to be part of the master bedroom that even without, looked roomy.

 

The shelves were all made of a deep reddish rosewood that started from the floor and ended at the ceiling. They covered most parts of the four walls, making the room feel extremely suffocating. But if there weren't this many shelves, there wouldn't have been enough room for the sheer amount of books in Misty's collection.

 

It was so isolated, it felt like a world of its own.

 

On the wall opposite the door, there was an unused fireplace. Not Misty's wisest choice to build this here, considering it was after all stocked up with what could only be fuel to a fire.

 

Her eyes rested upon row after row of books, spines all facing outwards. Cordelia could immediately tell that there was a whole shelf of books reserved for Misty's medical collection. 

 

Another wall boasted a window that was supposed to let light in. But at this hour, only the yellow fluorescent light that was emitted from the half chandelier was received.

 

It cast long shadows of the two armchairs and the table that was pressed up against a corner.

 

"What are you up to, baby bird?" Myrtle said with a fleeting amount of worry.

 

"I'm just..." Cordelia didn't reply right away but when she did, she trailed off back into silence. 

 

Myrtle stepped right into the room and spun Cordelia around, embracing her tightly. The gentle scent of the redhead's perfume rekindled even more past memories.

 

"What's this?" the cat-eyed auntie pulled the notebook softly out of Cordelia's hand, "Is this Misty's?"

 

Cordelia shook her head, "It's mine."

 

"Oh… Misty has tons of these," Myrtle waved loudly, passing the book back to her niece, "You wouldn't understand how many backaches they've caused me to pack and send them over here-" She cut herself short abruptly.

 

Cordelia flipped it open, it's yellow pages were blotched and interrupted by brown spots. She didn't know books aged like humans as well.

 

On the third page, she found her mother's name.

 

These days, it seemed impossible to hold the name of her mother for more than a second. So when her mind processed it, she immediately asked, "Has mother died too? Has everyone died-"

 

"Fiona is not dead," Myrtle corrected mid-question. The redhead touched wood. She paused and pursed her lips together in deep thought, phrasing and rephrasing her sentence. "She just hasn't exactly been contactable since… She didn't think through what she was doing. Foolishness got to her," Myrtle sighed, "But Misty's working on it… I'm sure you will see her again in no time. Don't you worry, Co-delia."

 

Cordelia didn't exactly know what to feel at the revelation.

 

"You said Misty has more than one of these?" Cordelia flipped through the book again.

 

"Yes, my dear. They should be somewhere here..." Myrtle tried to find the boxes of black notebooks she had personally hand packed to be sent over here from 1410 Jackson Avenue, "But I… My, this is weird. I can't seem to find them at all!" 

 

The blonde put her hand on Myrtle's forearm in a silent reassurance that they didn't need to find it now for Cordelia was going nowhere.

 

###

 

"Hi Fiona," Misty spoke with a frosted voice, her foot kicked deep into the sand.

 

"Who's this? Why do you know my name?" The woman's voice was close to the receiver, "Joseph! Is this one of your _ stupid _ little tricks? What day is it today? Why, I must still be dreaming!"

 

"Fiona, it's me-"

 

"Me, who?" Fiona howled into the phone, "It's too early for this."

 

"If ya' let me finish ma' sentence-" Misty sighed heavily.

 

"Misty-" There was a long pause after the name was spoken. "Is this you? Misty Day?" 

 

Misty sighed again, "Yes. It's me, Misty."

 

Another long, long pause as Misty looked at the moon again, this time seeing it as a reflection of the sun Fiona was staring at. She kissed her knuckles and formed a fist so tight they became white.

 

"Mist- What are you calling for?" Fiona perplexed, "How did you get this number?" 

 

In the distance, from the other side of the world, Misty heard a man's voice she assumed was Joseph. She always knew that he provided the sort of comfort only Indra could have provided but since she was gone… It was only right Fiona had gone to Paris where she could stay connected with Indra.

 

"I just know it."

 

"Liar." Fiona spat into the phone. There was shifting on the older blonde's part. Another pause as Fiona waited for the wild blonde to spill her secrets.

 

Misty held onto her breath. "Ya' left me with no choice, Fiona. Ya' left without a word. Myrtle started it first when ya' left. There was no progress an' we all thought ya' were dead somewhere with ya' pills an' ya' alcohol."

 

Fiona cackled, finding Misty's words more than desperate. "If detectives were any good, I wouldn't have even left in the first place." She mocked, referring to all the failed attempts of locating her daughter.

 

"Ta' one I hired was  _ very _ good," Misty countered, "He found ya'."

 

"And ta' police… They found Dee." The doctor added after a beat, "Actually, no, I found Dee. She found me. We found each other. The police will get none of the credit."

 

The absolute stillness on both ends scared Misty. Even Fiona's own breath seem to die as soon as it left her mouth. The kind of tranquility they sat in was tormented.

 

"The police, what? You don't have to lie if you want me to come back to New Orleans."

 

"I'm not in New Orleans. I moved ta' LA a while back. And I'm not lyin'. If ya' at least stayed contactable?! Ya' would've been ta' first one I called." The Cajun's voice cracked with misery.

 

The last sentence filled Fiona with so much rage and fury, she blasted all over the phone at Misty, "Young lady. Indra would not be pleased that her daughter has grown up to be such a liar. I know you mean well, boo-hoo-hoo. I'm not leaving. Period." 

 

"Why don't ya' call Myrtle yourself," Misty mumbled, hurt that Fiona was calling her a liar and that the wispy blonde had brought Indra into this too. She stared into the crashing waves, hoping that she would not have to add tears to the already salty ocean.

 

"Actually, why don't ya' call Dee ya'self."

 

There was a long cessation of speech on either side.

 

"Fiona?" Misty plead.

 

"You're not lying, are you? You can't falsely bring my hopes up again." The despair in Fiona's voice was heartbreaking.

 

"No, I'm not- I'll give ya' my home number. Or ya' can call Myrtle directly. Dee hasn't gotten a number yet." Misty scratched and tapped on her jeans nervously.

 

On the other end of the line, Misty heard Fiona break down as realization hit her at full speed. It was like stepping out of the darkness after thinking that there would be no end to it. There was something banging on the table. And then a whimper from Fiona. 

 

The Cajun had only ever seen Fiona cry twice. And that was at Indra's funeral and when they were at the police station one week after Cordelia was gone. Even though Misty was not there to see Fiona crying this time, she could feel the magnitude of it and she allowed herself to feel every inch of joy and sadness the older woman was feeling.

 

And she joined the parade of tears as she walked back to her bicycle like it was a horse, awaiting her after the mission. It was time to go home now.

 

Although it was a cry of relief this time, Misty didn't like to see Fiona cry at all. 

 

It took them awhile to get their breathing in check one again. With a faltered voice, Fiona thanked Misty for the first time ever.

 

The wispy old blonde took in a deep breath and used the side of her index fingers to wipe away what was left of her tears. Long past her glory days, she looked across the foyer area where she was sitting, into the mirror that held her reflection.

 

Her hair had grown thinner, more fragile. Just like her heart and everything else. Half of her died when Indra left this earth. The other half followed when Cordelia disappeared. 

 

Could you die more than once? Because with each passing year, she died a little bit more.

 

The light scattered and the birds sang.

 

Fiona forced her lips into a pretense smile, her hands moving automatically back over to the vintage buttons of the house phone.

 

###

 

The phone rang at Misty's house, and both Auntie and niece had guessed it would be Misty.

 

"I'll get that one, Auntie," Cordelia insisted. As she got closer to the living room, the ringing grew louder and louder, until it became an irritant.

 

Quickly, Cordelia wrapped her good hand around the phone and lifted it up to her ear. "Misty? Where are you? Are you coming back now? Will you come back now? I'm worried-"

 

"Delia, is this-" Fiona's breath hitched at the name that rolled off her tongue, "Delia," She repeated firmly this time, "Is this really you?"

 

"Mother?"

 

The warm whiff of freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the nearby bakery assaulted Fiona's nostrils just as she heard her daughter's voice after what had almost been two decades. It stole her breath.

 

"Delia," Fiona murmured in confirmation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a reunion for Fiona and Cordelia. And Indra is dead. And if you haven't already read it, I wrote a oneshot about Ally and Ivy titled 'The Worst Day'. It would mean a whole lot if you checked that out.


	10. The Parent Trap: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reading! Anger is the new crying.

"Fiona, I've decided that I'mma movin' in. The house is big enough for all of us, don't you agree?" Indra stated casually as she paced around the kitchen.

 

The wispy blonde, too drunk to realize what was happening continued in her peaceful slumber.

 

"An' I will not tolerate any drinkin' in this house."

 

###

 

[One year later, 6 years old, First Grade]

 

Cordelia took small quiet steps around the house like a mouse while Misty was tagging along behind her like a tornado.

 

"Dee! Dee! Dee! It's breakfast time!" Misty cheered.

 

Cordelia gave a weak smile towards Misty. Even though it has been just over a year since she was discharged, healthy and recovered from the pediatric wing in Orleans Keller Hospital, her lungs never went back to their former glory days.

 

On days like today where the weather was dark and wet, Indra made her wear an oxygen prong just in case. 

 

When they came around the stairs, Misty stopped pulling the oxygen tank.

 

Cordelia, who momentarily forgot, continued walking downwards until the plastic grew taut around her neck, her eyes bulged and she let out a soft choke before giggling.

 

"You're strangling me, Misty," She turned back around to see Misty resting on the top step, one hand on the oxygen canister to prevent it from falling down the steps and onto Cordelia.

 

"It's heavy," Misty giggled along, "I can't pull it down… Or can we?" 

 

"Myrtle says we shouldn't do that because it's 'fist full of absolute insanity'!" Cordelia tried at mimicking their auntie who had been seeing them more often than usual.

 

After Misty's family had moved into the mansion, they left their now vacant house to Myrtle, who stayed there alone with her ten cats that Fiona wouldn't let Cordelia touch.

 

"Delia! Misty! Breakfast is ready," Fiona's voice traveled upwards from the kitchen just downstairs.

 

"Comin'!" Misty yelled back, looking Cordelia dead in the eye, “Mother’s isn’t here! Ya’ take that thingy off!” The curly blonde gestured at her friend’s nasal area. With both Indra and Gilbert at work and Fiona who didn’t know any better about oxygen therapy, they were safe.

 

The straight blonde walked back up and untangled herself from the plastic nasal prong and promptly hooked it on the small trolley.

 

The straight blonde let out small cough but put her hand up to assure Misty that it was fine and they should continue what they started.

 

With two nods from the both of them, they combined their strength in tipping the canister over, causing it come crashing down heavily down the wooden steps. Another crash was heard from the kitchen.

 

Then the oxygen can let out a hissing noise as the remaining air leaked out from a hole in the dent. 

 

“Girls!?” Fiona’s strangled voice was frantic like her movements as she made her way to the stairs, prepared to see a bloody scene. 

 

“Girls!” She shouted again, hoping for a reaction and her heart dropped when she heard what sounded like a whimper. Along the hallway, she was joined Spalding who made it point to drop whatever he was doing to help.

 

But nothing would’ve prepared her more for what she saw.

 

Misty was dropped on the floor, laughing and rolling around as her feet made momentary thuds when it came into contact with the hollow floor. While Cordelia’s reaction was nowhere as dramatic as Misty’s she had a small portion of her fingers covering her mouth tightly, hoping to stifle any giggles from escaping.

 

The minuted Fiona had seen this, her face of concern froze over like a lake on a bitter winter’s morning. Every muscle in her became rigid and she clenched both her fists and jaw tightly.

 

She held her flare of anger back as long as she could. She was like a bull that had seen red. This was the moment before she took the charge. If Cordelia and Misty didn’t stop their nuisance right this instant, she was going to charge. And the outcome wouldn’t be too good for either of them.

 

When Cordelia saw the furious and burning eyes of her mother, she immediately stilled, hands coming down to her sides and she stood like a prey, waiting for the tiger’s next move.

 

Misty, having sensed her friend’s sudden silence, pushed herself up from the floor and she did not even have to look past Fiona’s taut calves for further confirmation that she was dead meat.

 

They watched as Fiona’s brown eyes turned into a shade of pure black. She looked like the devil now.

 

The unruly child did not even dare look into Fiona’s eyes. But when she did, a glance was all it took to confirm her only possible outcome. 

 

Fiona was going to smother them both.

 

“Who’s. Idea. Was. This?” Fiona asked with clipped words.

 

There was no answer from either girl.

 

“I asked a question, young ladies,” The mother stated in a tone that could kill. She took a glance at her daughter, and then at Misty. When she shifted her gaze back to her blonde daughter, she let out a growl that demanded obedience, “ _ Delia? _ ”

 

“I… I…” Cordelia began in an extremely delicate voice, as though her throat was going to rip open if she spoke any louder.

 

“Do you want me to chop off your tongue like I did with Spalding?!” Fiona raised her already stern voice.

 

The thought of getting her tongue sliced off seemed to do it as Cordelia burst out in tears while her curly-haired friend stepped in front of her, and said with a great amount of six-year-old courage, “I did it! I did it, Ms Fiona. Nothin’ ta’ do with Dee.”

 

If Spalding hadn’t grabbed hold onto Fiona’s wrist on time, her palm would have split Misty’s chubby cheeks open in a split second.

 

But that did not happen and now Fiona’s seething fury had nowhere to escape other than from her thin-lipped mouth.

 

“You are in one  _ hell  _ of a  _ shit  _ hole, Miss Day,” Fiona marched forth and held the curly blonde by her shoulders. She grabbed Cordelia harshly by the wrist and led them to Cordelia’s room.

 

“And don’t think you’re off the hook, Cordelia Goode. No one in this house will act like a childish fool.”

 

###

 

With the door kicked open, the mess that greeted Fiona only served to infuriate her even more.

 

Flung all around on the floor were small lego pieces the girls must have been playing with. Cordelia’s dolls were sprawled on the bed and the curtain was partially drawn back in a lazy manner. 

 

“Is this how I’ve taught you to behave, Delia?” the blonde mother heaved, trying to keep her breathing in check.

 

As though the weather agreed with Fiona, a loud thunder rolled across the sky as clouds gave way to slitting rains that pattered down onto metal roof, covering the sound of Cordelia’s sniffles.

 

“When your mother hears about this,” Fiona shook her index finger at the curly blonde, her voice was cunning and deep like a snake, “When she hears about this, and she will, you…” 

 

Misty’s eyes grew wide. She knew that when her mother was pissed, boy her mother was pissed.

 

“And I think I’ll call her-“

 

“Ms Fiona! I don’t think Dee can breathe very well,” Misty interrupted in a flustered voice, shaking her friend who looked cyanotic.

 

The young child’s frequent hiccups had morphed into terrifying ragged breaths as she tried to get enough oxygen into her lungs. It felt like she was drowning on dry land again. The wetness in the air must have triggered the bad in her lungs. And unfortunately for her, the crying didn't exactly help either.

 

Although Cordelia was not at the stage where she was gasping for air, Fiona could tell that her daughter was growing short of breath. 

 

Immediately, the mother ran to the oxygen canister that was abandoned by the stairwell and tried to get it to work. Unfortunately, the leak in it had caused all remnants of oxygen in it to have escaped. “Fuck,” the tall mother muttered under her breath as she pounded on the air pressure meter. It remained uselessly still.

 

"Spalding," She called out to the butler, "Get the spare canister from the storeroom." 

 

Within two seconds, Spalding's passed her and hurried down the steps.

 

Fiona returned to the room to find Misty in the corner of the room while Cordelia was struggling to take deep breaths. 

 

"Delia. Up on the bed. Spalding's bringing your oxygen," the mother moved towards her blonde daughter and lifted the tiny blonde onto the tall bed. "You okay?" She asked sternly but not without concern.

 

Cordelia nodded.

 

"Spalding! Hurry up!" She shouted just as he made his way back into the room.

 

With skillful hands, she hooked the cannula over Cordelia's ears and turned the oxygen up to three litres per hour, slightly higher than prescribed but she convinced herself that her daughter would need it.

 

Fiona took a deep breath, relieved that Cordelia was going to be alright. She shut her eyes and turned her head towards the curly blonde who was still standing by the side of the room.

 

"Your mother is going to hear about your foolish shenanigans," Fiona said pointedly, "And  _ you _ ," she looked back at her daughter, " _ You _ should have known better than to follow your half-witted friend over there."

 

###

 

While Cordelia had fallen asleep in her bedroom and both Fiona and the unruly blonde child had moved down to the living area where they awaited Misty's sentence to be given by Indra. The rain poured heavily outside the windows and by the time Indra had come home, it had already been raining cats and dogs outside for the better half of the day. 

 

Misty watched as her mother approached Fiona and went in for a hug. 

 

"So, what exactly happened to Cordelia as ya' were tellin' me on ta' phone just now?" Indra asked as she put her umbrella away and kicked off her shoes.

 

"Where's Papa?" The curly blonde interrupted nervously, directing her question at her own mother. Instead, she merely received a cackle from Fiona. 

 

The doctor mom looked especially confused as she watched Misty shun away from Fiona in fear. "Papa's still at work, honey. What happened?" Indra bent down to her daughter's eye level, searching into blue eyes for an explanation. 

 

The mother of the curly blonde had read in parenting books that by lowering yourself to eye level, it enabled the child to feel that his or her words actually meant something. And she wanted Misty to feel that way.

 

"I..." Misty's head dropped to a new low as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She put her hands behind her back and cupped them together.

 

Fiona laughed wildly at Misty's timid actions. With a curt voice, the wispy blonde explained, "Little Miss Trouble, together with my good for nothing daughter decided it would be a great idea to throw the oxygen canister down."  

 

The curly blonde looked at her mother with wide eyes.

 

"Misty, is is true ya' did that?" Indra cut her friend short. There was uncertainty in her voice although she knew Fiona would not lie about these sort of things.

 

Misty screwed her face up into a pitiful frown. That was enough for Indra to go from zero to a hundred on the anger scale. Like Fiona just mere hours ago, Indra stood up and towered over her young child. There was no need for Misty's excuses to be heard. Whatever the reason was, it was not forgivable.

 

"And Cordelia? Is she okay? There's a spare oxygen-"

 

"Yes, Delia's alright. She's sleeping right now. Spalding got it-" 

 

After the confirmation, Indra didn't feel the need to listen to anymore. 

 

"Misty come here," Indra said harshly, walking over to the coat rack they had set up just a few days ago. 

 

The curly blonde followed her mother quietly across the living area. She took tiny steps like Cordelia did in the morning. If she stayed quiet enough, she could dream that her mother would not punish her. But that was not to be.

 

When Misty stood two steps behind her mother, Indra pulled her daughter closer until their faces were just inches away from each other. With a stern grip, she pulled the girl's arms up and slipped a yellow raincoat over, buttoning the buttons wrongly in a fit.

 

She had another angry huff escape from her tight lips before pulling the coat open and closing them again, this time with the right buttons.

 

Then, the mother took her daughter's hair and put it in a ponytail with the hair tie she took out of her own hair, slipping a matching waterproof hat over the girl's head.

 

Fiona watched on, amused.

 

"I do not scold ya' and I do not punish ya' but I will now because obviously, ma' way of parenting isn't workin' as it should be," Indra muttered as she straightened out her daughter's new brightly colored outfit, "Because I will not  _ tolerate _ this kind of behavior, Misty. I have been too kind and now time after time, ya' showed me that ma' mellowness is obviously  _ not  _ working with a child like you."

 

With a bang, the front door was opened and Misty was ushered outside.

 

"Indra, I don't think..." The unwavering Fiona voiced out her disapproval.

 

Indra closed the door as Misty tried to make her way back in. "Ya' will sit out here until ya' repent, am I clear?" 

 

"Ma..." Misty began to hiccup but the door had already closed, leaving her to look through the small pane of frosted glass by the side of the door. She wasn't usually scared and didn't usually cry but this was the tipping point for her. Out and alone with nothing but a thin coat to shield her from the pelting rain that tickled her skin even under the minimal shelter of the front balcony. 

 

"Ma!" She shouted, louder this time.

 

On the inside of the house, Indra's fuming mad facade had melted into a hot mess of running makeup.

 

"Indra, come on now. That's no way to treat a six-year-old. Misty did her wrong but she's only six! Still a child."

 

"She's six years too old!" Indra lamented at her bad upbringing, "If only I had brought her up like how the nuns had brought us up. Tough love is still love, right?! We hated the 'sisters' no less than she takes me for granted." 

 

They both turned to the door where Misty still had her tiny wet palm up against the frosted glass like a scene from a horror movie.

 

"She takes me for granted, Fiona! Gilbert spoils her no less than I do. Oh how I wish I had brought her up like how ya' have yours."

 

Fiona rubbed her friend's back, consoling, "And my daughter has a bad lung because of the path I had chosen to bring her up in."

 

Indra opened her mouth to speak but little pattering feet left her mouth hanging. And what happened next would leave her mouth hanging for a pretty long time.

 

Little Cordelia had woken up from her peaceful slumber to the sound of Misty's wailing which had gotten louder by the second. Following the sound of her voice, the blonde girl came descended down the stairs like a princess coming to meet her prince. Spalding followed closely behind, at the end of his lanky arm was the unmistakable oxygen canister. 

 

"Mother," She said in shock, "I think you put Misty outside by accident."

 

Her voice was angelic, filled to the brim with the purest form of innocence. She as still rubbing her sleepy eyes, haven't fully awakened. She wondered why the adults hadn't heard Misty's cries.

 

"MA!" Misty's voice was distressed.

 

"Coming!" Cordelia yelled back before moving quickly towards the door which Indra and Fiona promptly stood aside from just for the young girl to open it.

 

Like a wet ball of fur, Misty rushed into the house, crashing into Cordelia and they fell into a heap on the floor, leaving a wet imprint on the wooden planks.

 

"Dee! I'm sorry I hurt ya'," the curly blonde apologized into Cordelia's hair as the mothers untangled their daughters from each other, "I'm sorry I hurt ya'."

 

The hurt in Misty's voice for her apparent betrayal was evident.

 

"Let's go," Cordelia reached out to pull Misty out of Indra's embrace, pulling her friend towards the door once again.

 

"Delia, where are you going?" Fiona asked as Spalding opened a large umbrella and held it above Cordelia, "You're not supposed to go under the rain."

 

Indra watched bewildered but wanted to see what Cordelia was about to do next. So instead, she replied to Fiona, "A little water can't hurt."

 

Cordelia gave a smile so genuinely sweet and with a small touch of shyness, it made warmth rushed through the doctor's blood. Her smile seemed to have an infectious effect as soon, Misty had her pearly whites showing too.

 

A dimple on the curly blonde's face crinkled, even though it had a sort of twist to it, as though she was stopping herself from crying. But soon, all was forgotten and her face mimicked the warm glow of her friend's equally bright smile.

 

This was the magic of children. It took just close to nothing to see them smile again because a child's memory could only hold on to bad thoughts for that moment. The rest was history.

 

They walked out into the rain, under the dark skies. And as all children do, they danced under the rain, that was safely shielded off by the umbrella Spalding held high and wide.

 

The children were like a snapshot out of time. The kind of picturesque photo you would put on your refrigerator door for memories even till they've grown and graduated from high school or even after they return from college. 

 

It reminded both Indra and Fiona of their times in their own children together with Myrtle on the steps of where they grew up in. Barefoot and dancing with the joy of life under the rain, they could not be tamed. Just as their children were now.

 

"It takes two hands to clap," Fiona announced before holding out her palm as in invitation towards Indra for another dance under the pouring skies, "May I?" 

 

"You may," Indra replied in a british accent.

 

Their giggles might have even softened the rain a little as they stepped out, bare feet onto the grass. Hair already soaked at the first step out, Indra planted a kiss on Misty's cheek while Fiona chose to give a stern look to her daughter.

 

Everyone's love shined through different. But it meant all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme: Love!


	11. The Parent Trap: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tries to establish foxxay* *Runs* Happy Reading!

"Dee?" Misty called out into the darkness that was the house.

 

From the main door, she could see Cordelia's silhouette against the night skies. With her mind afloat, she glided across the front room to join her friend.

 

Misty tried to remember when was the last time she had seen the blonde sit so still in the night. There Cordelia was in the semi-lit room with this small supple pout on her upper lip that the wild blonde had grown accustomed to looking at when they were younger. 

 

"I was worried," Cordelia admitted, "You shouldn't have gone out so late."

 

Misty remained speechless and she let her weight sink in beside Cordelia on the sofa. The stars of the city lights twinkled in the distance. It was then Misty realized the television was turned on but muted. 

 

There was an episode of  _ Friends _ playing on it.

 

"I didn't know _ Friends  _ had reruns this late," Misty breathed in deeply. She could smell the lingering scent of Cordelia's choice of shampoo. 

 

"Fiona called," Cordelia confided.

 

"As I told her ta'," Misty informed, she shifted herself close to Cordelia, so close their thighs touched. She waited for the straight blonde's reaction as if it were her fate.

 

Cordelia stiffened, she still wasn't used to other people touching her but after awhile, she eased into the gesture. "And she's coming over?"

 

"Of course she is."

 

"Why?"

 

"Fiona loves ya'. Ya' know that right?"

 

Cordelia's heart faltered and her eyelids fluttered. She shook her head subtly, in a manner than showed disbelief but did nothing more than that.

 

Misty followed her friend's every movement. She knew there was a good reason Cordelia did not believe in her words. 

 

"Ya' know all of us love ya' right?"

 

Cordelia raised her eyebrows ever so slightly in question before putting her hands together and interlacing them. Her gaze fell upon a scar on her hand. It was light and raised, almost invisible to the average eye. It was a burn scar from one of Hank's cigarette buds and she remembered it to be the first time she had bled from down there.

 

After another deep breath, Misty continued, "And I love ya' too. For ta' longest time."

 

But Cordelia simply laughed it off internally. Love. It was a foreign concept to her. She knew Hank loved her. Or he  _ did _ love her. He was the only ever love she knew off. 

 

"Only fools fall in love," Cordelia looked back into blue eyes. The blue spoke so much in a secret language she once knew. But like all acquired languages, a lack of exposure to it for a long time meant that she no longer held that key to Misty's secrets.

 

And there was a silence that came forth to fill that space. 

 

"Dee, I'm tellin' ya. I'm tellin' ya' that I love ya'."

 

"Okay," She replied, "I hear you."

 

Misty let out a whimper of sorts, plagued by Cordelia's ambiguous words. 

 

Then, only to ease her questions, Cordelia continued in a soft tone, "The last time someone said that to me, he held me in his basement for 18 years. I don't think I am capable of love anymore."

 

"Dee, ya' are not hearing me!" Misty stifled her cries, "I'm tellin' ya' that  _ I _ love ya'!  _ I, me. _ Misty.  _ Ya' friend. _ I love ya'. I ain't gonna lock ya' up. Love is different for everyone, ya' can't just group me wit' the monster." 

 

The straight blonde remained indifferent. "Love is different for everyone..." Cordelia harped over Misty's words, "He wasn't bad all the time, you know? Sometimes he would bring me flowers. And he'd let me upstairs for breakfast. And the day would almost seem normal. Can you imagine?" 

 

Cordelia's eyes seemed to glimmer with happiness as she thought about her captor's good deeds. 

 

Misty could not believe what she had just heard. Here she was, professing her heart out to the only woman she had ever loved. The woman that had left with her heart  two decades ago and now is back, only to return it battered and bruised, like a apathetic shopper, 'Do you still do refunds?'

 

"Dee..." Misty fumbled over her words, "Dee.. I couldn't possibly imagine what that was like."

 

"No," Cordelia said thoughtfully, "I figured no one could.” And she resumed looking down on the white scar he had left. Her thumb brushed against it lightly.

 

All the stars in the sky fell for the very ordinariness that had brought her nothing but pain. And all at once, people from all over this half of the world, on airplanes and in tall buildings, wished upon those shooting stars. She did the same and wished upon a fallen star. A wish wasted for she wished that she could forgive Hank.

 

And Misty wished Cordelia would one day love her back.

 

###

 

_ [A few days later] _

 

The sea of people wouldn't part like Moses and the red sea. Instead, it seemed to grow thicker by the minute.

 

With the ending of summer and vacation period also meant that Fiona was unable to get any tickets until a whole week later. And the week crawled slowly behind their anxious footsteps. Nonetheless, today was the day mother and daughter meet.

 

_ Today was the day. _

 

Cordelia closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air that was polluted by words of farewells and greetings. Misty stared at her friend as though the straight blonde was like a magnificent statue, although Cordelia would be more perfect than chipped stone.

 

"Dee, ya' okay?" Misty internally facepalmed herself for saying the same phrase over, and over again since Cordelia came back. But what could she do? There were only so many ways to express her concern for her friend.

 

Eyes still closed, her friend nodded.

 

Cordelia put her hands on the cold metal rails and tried to take in everything. With her sense of hearing heightened, she could hear countless rollers glide across the granite flooring and she could hear children's laughter… And there was an old lady at the exchange counter who wasn't so sure how her One Million YEN only equalled to around Nine Thousand USD. If Cordelia wanted to be specific, she could tell you that the money was actually Eight Thousand, Nine Hundred and Fifty Dollars. 

 

But before she could listen on about what the old lady had to say, the smell in the air changed.

 

She didn't want to open her eyes anymore.

 

"Dee..." Misty gently tapped her shoulders, "Dee,  _ Fiona's here. _ " 

 

And it was those two words.

 

###

 

"Which one is it?" Cordelia asked unapologetically. She didn't need to be sorry for not recognizing her mother. Hell, she had too many things to be sorry about already and this really didn't need to be another one of those  _ stupid _ things.

 

Misty forgave her friend for not recognizing the wispy blonde. After all, a good portion of her mother's sharp face was covered up by a large hat and sunglasses. The wild blonde gave a pathetic wave and pointed Fiona out to Cordelia.

 

If Cordelia's doe eyes could pierce through anything, it would be Fiona. 

 

The daughter looked down, trying to avoid Fiona's gaze like the sun. Yet, like the sun she hadn't seen for two centuries and beyond, she felt the scorch and the orange hues and everything you would feel of a sun. One did not have to see the sun to feel it. Fiona  _ was _ her sun. But now that she had seen her mother again, she wished for the skies to grow dark at once.

 

"Delia," The woman said to Cordelia.

 

Cordelia forced herself to look up and into earth stained eyes alike hers. The daughter did not say a word. Fiona grabbed her daughter and forced their bodies against each other in a makeshift attempt of hugging. They were almost the same height now apart from the heels Fiona was wearing.

 

Where their cheeks touched, Cordelia felt the wetness of fresh tears. 

 

Somewhere down the line from arrival, a sports team flourished as though cheering them on and Cordelia's hands shakily rose to reach behind her mother's back to hold it.

 

"Delia. Oh, my sweet Delia," Fiona's voice was so lightly pitched, words faded away with the breeze. 

 

Cordelia grew suffocated.

 

"Mother," She acknowledged, "Mother, please- Please, you're hurting me." 

 

Immediately, that worked. Just like it did with Misty and with Myrtle. Pushing away her mother felt easier.

 

After all, they had always been two magnets carved from a single pole.

 

Then, Cordelia opened her eyes and she thought she was dreaming when she saw Joseph. It was being five years old all over again. This time, the only water came from her mother's tears.

 

###

 

Traffic was crawling to a standstill like a typical LA evening.

 

Misty gave the car horn a long and heavy press that matched her accompanying sigh.

 

"Is the traffic here always this bad?" Joseph asked, his profound question only earned an eye roll from Fiona who sat in the SUV next to Cordelia. The mother had her hand on Cordelia's thigh in a casual manner. But for Fiona, it also served as a reminder that this, whatever this was, it was real.

 

She didn't want to remind herself of the many times before that she'd woken up from her dream similar to this.

 

"It's LA, what were ya' expectin'?" Misty snarled. 

 

"Well, at least we don't have to live here long!" Joseph snapped back at Misty. The two had never been quite fond of each other. 

 

Fiona looked at her daughter to watch her reaction to this but Cordelia seemed to have no thoughts about what was happening. Cordelia just sat there, staring out of the windows at the cars that lined the road. A dog was barking at her from the opposite car but she gave it none of her attention.

 

"Delia, you want to tell me about how living with Misty has been? I do know it was a dream of you two to have wanted to live with each other," Fiona tried tenderly, rubbing her palm up and down her daughter's thigh.

 

When Misty heard the mother's question, she laughed, "Of course, of course, Dee likes stayin' wit' me. What kinda'  _ asshole _ question is that? Right, Dee?" 

 

Fiona plastered a smile on her lips. 

 

Cordelia, without even turning, answered in an almost monotonous manner, "It's really only-" She paused for a while to think, "It's only been three days. I don't know." 

 

The rest of the car ride was silent.

 

###

 

"Myrtle, ya' sure it's okay?" Misty asked again, leaning against Zoe and Kyle's apartment door which was just located two floors below hers. There were no more spare rooms Misty's apartment anymore and it was intended that Fiona and Joseph be staying with the psychiatrist but Myrtle offered to give her room up.

 

"Of course, it's not a problem at all," Myrtle walked over and placed a small kiss on Misty's cheek, "Fiona needs the time with Cordelia."

 

"Okay, if ya' need anythin'-"

 

"Call you or Zoe." 

 

Misty smiled brightly, knowing that her Aunt had been listening to her whilst walking backwards towards the elevator. As her body disappeared into the lift, she stuck her hand out in a thumbs up sign and heard the redhead laugh before ascending back up two floors up.

 

Now, it was time to deal with the real thing which was, Cordelia, did not wish to see Fiona at all. Much less Joseph who had his hands around Fiona's waist as if he owned her like a prized trophy.

 

Watching them from behind the wall, she wondered when they had gotten back together and the reason behind it. Fiona knew how much she had hurt her in the past. There was no questioning that. But she eyed their lovely gestures and wondered if Hank and her ever had the same thing. 

 

There was a spark between Fiona and Joseph and no matter how much Cordelia wanted to deny it, she knew that it was Joseph who had kept Fiona sane for the past two decades or so.  _ Or her mother would be dead by now. _

 

But even then, she disregarded his hard work on keeping her mother sane and resumed the wild-eyed stare she had been giving him since they had come home. She watched his soul like a hawk and the anger continued to grow in depths.

 

Thus, when Joseph's calloused hands reached for a bagel, Cordelia couldn't possibly take it any much longer.

 

"The bagels are Misty's. You ought to ask before taking any. It's not your house," Cordelia snapped, even though the voice did not entirely match the anger that boiled on her insides.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry," He said half-heartedly and looked at Fiona, "But I'm sure Misty wouldn't mind me taking one..." His hand remained stilled on the bagel.

 

"Joseph, just put the damn bagel down." Fiona rasped, "Misty's going to get back and you can ask her later."

 

The stubborn man refused to budge.

 

That's when Cordelia's other half of the body stepped out from behind the wall and she moved over to pick the bagel out of his hands. But his grip was tight on the piece of food and Cordelia only tore it into two uneven pieces. 

 

"Delia!" Fiona shouted, "That is _ very _ rude. I did not raise you like this." The words slipped out of Fiona's mouth before she could even think through them properly. 

 

"You did not raise me at all,  _ Mother _ ," Cordelia, clipped in response, equally unthinking and blinded by her anger. She thought about the list of words her mother threw at her in the past and could not take back. 

 

This was just the start of her very own list.

 

###

 

"Hey! How's it goin'?" Misty found herself cheering two very cold parties who sat equal distance across the seating area across the kitchen.

 

Cordelia was just staring into space past Fiona.

 

Joseph sat on the arm of the sofa, next to the wispy blonde who looked more disappointed than angry. Hurt would be another way to put it for her eyebrows were furrowed deeply and her thin lips in a downward frown as though she was about to let boiling tears escape.

 

"Dee? Fiona?" She looked to both the women for an explanation.

 

"They're fighting over the-" Joseph said with his mouth full, paused and after a swallow, continued, "The bagel I just had." 

 

"It's more than just that," the two women said at the same time, similarities showing despite their need to be different. Cordelia looked at Fiona with slanted eyes. She did not know it was possible to hate someone this much after this long a time.

 

Misty felt painfully out of place as Fiona glared at Cordelia and likewise. She hadn't expected this to happen. A heavy silence fell upon them, tension thicker than blood. 

 

"What exactly happened?" Misty asked cautiously, careful to remain neutral. She did not want to thread on either one of the tiger's tail. Cordelia may be mellow right now but the wild blonde knew that the saying 'like mother like daughter' was not to be taken lightly. 

 

Cordelia stood up and locked eyes with Fiona, "I… I don't wish to see her anymore."

 

"Why?" The curly blonde shot back almost immediately, "Fiona flew all the way down from Paris-"

 

"If she had wanted me as a daughter, she would have never let Hank take me. She would never have stopped looking. She would have never left my side," Cordelia finally spat her thoughts before the wispy blonde mother, "I hate you. You make me wish I wasn't born."

 

The room's walls seemed to close in on them as Cordelia left with quick steps. 

 

Misty took a look at Cordelia and then back at the mother who bit on her lip. One of Fiona's now wrinkled hands traced her jawline before caressing her own face. It was something she always did before she wanted to cry.

 

"Why don't you like me?!" Fiona lamented after Cordelia but there would be no response.

 

###

 

"Cordelia, what is wrong with ya'?" Misty couldn't fathom the thought of having her own mother here and not wanting to talk to her. Still reeling in from the rejection the curly blonde faced a couple of days ago, her words were harsh, lined with fresh hatred.

 

"What's wrong with me?" Cordelia wiped her sleeved arms against her face roughly, concealing the first wave of tears that had marched forth in defense.

 

"Yes," Misty pointed out the obvious, "Ya' mother's here an' ya' haven't tried ta' talk to her. Ya' just sit there with yer' emotions like none of this ever happened. Didn't Zoe tell ya' that ya' have ta' cope with ya' feelin's? Not coop up and not let anyone know." 

 

Cordelia sighed and said almost robotically, "I'm coping." 

 

"If ya' don't talk about ya' feelings ever, how am I supposed ta' know what ya' are thinkin' about?" Misty softened her words, moving over to where Cordelia was sitting on the armchair. "I'm sorry for lashin' out on ya'. It's just that I would give anythin', anythin' ta' see my Ma again. And here we have Fiona who wants ta' patch things up with ya'."

 

"I… Do you miss Indra sometimes?"

 

Misty nodded, "Every day since. Why?"

 

"Then… Then maybe I wish that it was Fiona who died that day."

 

The shock on Misty's face was immediately registered by Cordelia who did not look one bit remorseful about what she had just said.

 

"What? Why? Dee, ya' know Fiona flew all ta' way here ta' see-"

 

There was a loud slamming of the door from outside.

 

###

 

And the very next morning, Misty found Fiona's room empty.

 

Not a trace left. They hadn't even stayed a full day. 

 

"Do you still love me now?" Cordelia asked when she heard Misty stormed into the library where she sat next to tens of black notebooks. The one Myrtle had told her about some nights ago. 

 

"How did ya' find them?"

 

"Do you really love me? Is that why you wrote all these?" Cordelia made a flailed gesture around to the books that laid sprawled open all around her, "You love me less now that I've driven Fiona away?"

 

"I'm not gonna' love ya' any less even if ya' try ta' drive  _ me _ away," Misty articulated clearly, "And this kind of love, it doesn't just deplete like that, Dee."

 

Cordelia nodded before saying, "There's this song. In this one life, there is one love. I can only have one love and that was Hank, right? I don't think I can love you, Misty."

 

That sentence hit Misty hard. Coupled together with Fiona's disappearing act and Myrtle not being her, she could physically feel herself break down into multiple pieces. Her words were engulfed by a series of tremors, "Dee… Hank…. If Hank loved ya', he would've never hurt ya'. And he hurt ya' so much. And he hurt us, the people that loved ya' ta' most. When will ya' see that?"

 

_ "Then why did he say he loved me?"  _ Cordelia asked. 

 

The world was truly cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a mess! If you guys are wondering why Cordelia is acting this way, be reminded that she was after all in purgatory for many, many years and missed out on all the usual opportunities to learn and experience life. So yea! Hope you all enjoyed this.


	12. Start of Something New: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended song for this chapter is Free Fallin' by Stevie Nicks. Happy Reading!

_ She's a good girl, loves her mama _

 

_ [2 years later, End of Second Grade] _

 

"Misty, you can do this," Gilbert's low voice was the center of attention as he taught Misty to ride her bicycle. 

 

This was the third day that they were trying at getting Misty to pedal.

 

He was competing with Fiona as to whose teaching method would be better; Throw the child a bike and get her to learn herself method, otherwise known as the Fiona method or the step by step, basics first method, otherwise known as the _ actual parenting  _ method.

 

"I'm telling you, my method is better," Fiona taunted playfully, sipping on a glass of red wine, the only form of alcohol Indra would allow in the house, "Instills independence in the children."

 

Indra pushed Fiona out of the way and looked down their suburban street. "Delia, are ya' sure ya' don't want ma' help. Just 'cause Fiona doesn't wanna help ya', doesn't mean I won't, y'know?" 

 

"I'm okay!" Cordelia shouted back, she was already halfway down the street with her two feet cruising her along, "Misty come on, keep up!" She yelled back to her friend who was way behind her. Misty had her feet raised in front, nowhere near the pedals at all as Gilbert struggled to control the two-wheeled bicycle while one hand on the end of the saddle and one hand on the front handle.

 

Gilbert sighed, "Misty, you gotta keep those feet on your pedal! I'm not teaching you how to fly! Look at how Dellie does it!" With no free hands, he used his head to gesture towards the prodigal child in front.

 

The curly blonde child pouted. "I don't wanna' learn. Dee's a natural." 

 

"Come on now Misty, riding the bicycle is a very useful skill. If you get good enough, I'll let you ride it to school with Cordelia every day."

 

"I can't-do it," The child whined, finally setting her feet down on the floor with Gilbert almost tripping over his daughter at the abrupt stop. He let out a low laugh. The child tipped her body over towards the sidewalk and slowly eased herself out of the bicycle. There would be no stopping her now as she took off in the direction of the house, "MA!" She shouted on her way back.

 

Indra greeted her daughter with open arms as Fiona struggled to hold in a chuckle.

 

Cordelia's brakes screeched when she eventually pulled up in front of the house, Fiona giving her a playful glare.

 

"Look's like someone's had enough," Fiona commented on Misty who was pouting deeply as she passed Indra, she waved the rest of the family in, and joked, "Stephanie's new record comes out today, let's go listen to how bad it is."

 

A slow and warm chuckle rippled across all of them and they made their way inside the white mansion. 

 

"Remind me'a which song is comin' outta'day?" Indra said, sweeping dirt of off Misty's shorts.

 

Fiona pulled the bicycle in by its handles, the other holding onto Cordelia's hand as nudged her daughter through the doorway first, "Well, it's not really a song she wrote. It's a cover of Tom Petty's Free Fallin'." She chimed, looking behind.

 

"Remind me what year it is already? How old are we already? How come she's still doin' such amazin' things?" Indra quipped.

 

"It's 1728 and you're going to win a Nobel prize for the person with the most fucked up memory in the whole wide world," Fiona replied sarcastically.

 

"Ma, what is _ fucked _ ?" Misty immediately asked, looking at her mother with big curious eyes.

 

Indra's mouth dropped wide open, "Misty, yer' not allo-"

 

"That's the past tense of fuck," Fiona educated the child, "Come on, get the fuck in," she pushed the door wider so the wild blonde could go through.

 

"Get the _ fuvck _ in!" Misty chirped, punching her fist in the air before joining linking her hands in Cordelia's to walk to the kitchen.

 

"FIONA!" Indra warned angrily but part of her did not know whether the rendition of Misty's swear word was worth the laugh.

 

"What?" The wispy blonde said calmly before disappearing behind the door with the children. "The children need the learn! And it looks like the job is mine! Also, it's 1996" A shout could be heard from inside the house.

 

And Indra couldn't help but let out a sigh.

 

This was going to be the death of her.

 

###

 

_ [One week later] _

 

Today was the day of the end of school dance recital. Unfortunately, Gilbert was out of town for a business trip in the chilly state of Minnesota.

 

He had promised Misty that he would bring back snow in a jar if his daughter did, in fact, learn how to ride the bike by the time he returned, which wasn't due till… Two days from now.

 

But progress was slow and Misty was starting to get a little impatient.

 

They worked out a biking schedule every day so that Misty could practice but Indra was not home today so the task was up to Fiona to supervise, which meant…

 

Unsure how to do parenting, Fiona left it to Cordelia to teach her beloved friend the art of balancing on the two-wheeled mobile. The wispy blonde simply had Spalding bring out a sun chair so she could sit on the ground balcony while watching the girls in the backyard.

 

"I'm doin' it! I'm doin' it!" Misty would shout before ending up on the floor. Fiona had stopped looking excited after the third false alarm.

 

The humidity in the air made the curly blonde's hair as wild as the trees in a bayou today while Cordelia had silky ends pulled into a ponytail. Both girls were sticky with sweat from the summer heat and Fiona was not about to touch either one of them.

 

Unfortunately for the little Cajun, the practice had to be cut short today because they had an end of year dance recital to put up.

 

"Okay, one more time and we need to get you both into the showers. The recital is at 5," Fiona said, tapping on her watch before resuming her little sips on the glass of lemonade that was set next to her on a tiny table. The lemon had a sour that pierced right into her heart and made her mouth salivate. 

 

"Come on! Mist! One last time!" Cordelia beamed, quickly setting her friend up into an upright position as opposed to being slumped over, "You can do this."

 

Misty frowned again before putting one foot up on the raised pedal. 

 

_ I can do this, _ she thought.

 

And no doubt she could. 

 

With the first push, she put her other foot on the other pedal, looking ahead like a knight charging with his horse, her legs switched to an automated mode as her mind began to wander elsewhere. 

 

"Mist! You're doing it, you're doing it!" Cordelia began to run after her curly blonde friend, making sure she wouldn't get run over while keeping up with the slightly wobbly bicycle. 

 

"I am?" Misty lit up, unbelieving. 

 

Looking down was a mistake as she gave a big wobble and fell flat on the next pedal, heavier than before. The thump was so loud even Fiona stood up and began to walk over. 

 

"Misty! You okay?" Cordelia came to a halt next to her fallen friend. 

 

With Misty's head still cast downwards, Fiona began to get worried. Her pace quickened and she was by the child's side in zero time. But instead of pouting, the curly blonde let out a giggle that softened the grass and warmed the sun. Misty gave stole a shy look at Cordelia and dug her chin into her neck as she struggled to stifle a snort.

 

"I'M FREE FALLIN'! FREE FALLIN'!" Misty shouted out the lyrics to Stevie's new song which had been playing way too often in the house these days. And she put her hand to her forehead like she had seen the women on television do. "I wanna free fall out into nothin', I wanna leave this world for awhile."

 

Like a damsel in distress, she dramatically let her head fall back onto the floor, "The sun's too hot today, get me a drink, Ms Fiona!"

 

Appreciating Misty's sense of humor, Fiona gave out a hearty laugh before helping Misty untangle her legs from the bicycle, which too, had fallen with the child, "Anything hurts?" Fiona asked, sweeping debris off knobbly knees. She swept the messy hair out of Misty's face, looking into blue eyes.

 

"You know, you look just like your mother," Fiona said, standing back up. 

 

“ _ Well, my dear, take heart. Someday, I will kiss ya' and ya' will like it. But not now, so I beg ya' not ta' be too im-patient. _ ” Misty reenacted airly again, pretending to feel faint and falling to the ground with Cordelia catching her. Her words came out, chopped by words she did not know the pronunciations too.

 

“ _ I can't think about that right now. If I do,"  _ Cordelia exaggerated her gasp _ , "I'll go cra-azy. I'll think about that 'morrow, _ " She finally breathed after a substantial pause, looking into the eyes of Misty's.

 

"That did not even make any sense. Where do you even get these quotes?!" Fiona threw her head back in laughter at her two girls who were doing Gone With the Wind lines better than any seasoned Hollywood star.

 

Both girls shrugged playfully before bursting out in laughter.

 

"Maybe we should pull you both out of dance classes and do drama instead, huh?" Fiona said thoughtfully before reaching out for the bicycle to bring it back into the house, "You should show that to Indra later. That's enough of riding today, I want you all to be showered and ready by… 4.30pm. They teach you to read time in school, right?" 

 

"OKAY!" Misty shouted back, pulling Cordelia into the open balcony, "Let's go play dress-up!" 

 

"Shower first, please," The wispy blonde mother yelled after her two girls but her words fell on deaf ears and she let a small smile grace her lips before entering the house, passing the small bike to the butler. There was a loud clattering sound of the toy box that came from upstairs.

 

Fiona contemplated on going up before finally calling out, "Girls, don't make me come up there to shower you!" 

 

"Okay, Mother!" Cordelia hollered back.

 

"Good," Fiona said more to herself than to her daughter before sinking into a comfortable white armchair by the piano.

 

###

 

"Mother, we're late!" Cordelia exclaimed. 

 

"Don't you think I know that," Fiona snapped back.

 

Cordelia felt her heart sink. If this were Misty who made the comment, her mother would not have been so mean and angry. She wondered if her mother loved Misty more. With that thought in her mind, she couldn't help but pout.

 

It would be memories like that that would plague her in her later years. 

 

By the time it was 5 pm sharp and they still had two more streets to go before reaching the elementary school. "We're going to blame it on Misty's hair," Fiona decided softly.

 

The girls did indeed get ready by 4.30pm but Misty's hair took longer than anticipated to pull into a perfect ballet bun. But that wasn't it. Not only were their bags not packed, Indra had an emergency come in last minute and couldn't make it in time to prepare the girls. If anything, the french mother would only be able to make it just in time for the performance.

 

With a few more reckless swerves, Fiona wound the car into a spare parking lot that she had obviously stolen from the driver in the red car who had his gears still in reverse, ready to park into the spot.

 

Fiona rushed the girls across the street, effectively ignoring the driver's death threats. 

 

"Ah, Ms. Goode," The front desk lady greeted, "Your girls are late. I thought you decided to give it a miss!" 

 

"I know," Fiona muttered again, shoving the girl's bags into a single locker while both the young blondes ran ahead into the last dance practice before the recital. 

 

###

 

Mind still fresh with Fiona's indifference, Cordelia entered the room looking especially dejected with her shoulders slumped downwards and a mournful gaze. 

 

The teacher acknowledged them with a nod before shuffling them into their places. Misty's spot was opposite from Cordelia's and she could see the slight droop on the corners of her friend's mouth.

 

"1, 2, 3, 4 and a 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8," the teacher counted in a rhythmic pattern, going along with the piano accompaniment. All the students in the room began to dance their individual parts, all except Cordelia who continued standing with her arms by her side.

 

With Misty's strong gaze falling upon hers, she felt tears well up in her eyes as she shifted her own eyes sideways to concentrate on the wooden trimmings of the dance studio. 

 

"Psst! What's wrong?" Misty whispered harshly across the distance that fell between them as they twirled, "Why are ya' cryin'?" 

 

As Cordelia's distress became more and more apparent, it became harder for her to ignore the tears too. Finally, after another 8 beats of the song, Cordelia raised her hand, "Miss? Can I please-" A hiccup, "Please use the bathroom?"

 

The teacher waved for the music to be ceased.

 

"Is there something wrong, Cordelia? Did you forget your moves? It's alright, we can just revise them, right class?" The bright teacher turned back to the class but instead of cheers, the adult's suggestion elicited a few groans from the children who didn't know any better.

 

"Five-minute break!" The adult finally conceded. 

 

Cordelia looked around at the other children who had already begun talking to their partners and friends. Part of her felt so invisible. Everyone here seemed to have a better life than she did and she wanted them to feel her pain like she did. Something even Misty couldn't possibly understand. Warm tears rushed to her eyes and her hands moved automatically to scrub them away, as though she had done it many times before.

 

"Dee?" Misty approached cautiously.

 

Cordelia knew it was private and she knew she shouldn't have shouted it out so loud but in the end, the words slipped through her lips all too easily.

 

"You're stealing my mother!" 

 

That earned a few curious glances from the children all around the room but they resumed their own activities soon enough.

 

"What?" Misty blubbered. 

 

"What do you mean by that?" The dance instructor asked gently, sweeping her thumb across Cordelia's eyes to wipe fresh tears.

 

"My mother likes Misty more than she likes me! Everyone likes Misty more. Misty has the perfect family. I don't but she still steals Mother from me," the straight blonde burst out in her impaired English. When tears came, there would be no time for perfect grammar.

 

"I don't," the small Cajun began, "Ms. Fiona loves ya'. And I got my own Ma. Why would I want ta' steal Ms. Fiona?"

 

Cordelia struggled to find the words to her thoughts. She opened her mouth but no words came tumbling out. And the pit of butterflies began to rise as her words failed her once again. This wouldn't be the first time.

 

Just as the teacher was about to say something, the culprit of the conflict walked in with a smile on her face, "Misty! Your mother has a call for you," Fiona held up her new phone for Misty to see. 

 

The curly blonde ran over to the wispy blonde, taking over the phone and pressing it deathly close to her ear. "Ma, why aren't ya' here!" She said immediately after taking over, "Ya' know everyone else's Ma is here! Except ya'!" 

 

Cordelia ran over to her mother who then ran bony fingers through the girl's tight bun. "What's up with you?" Fiona questioned a little bit too coldly when she saw her daughter's red eyes. Cordelia looked up to her mother's cold stare that poisoned their relationship without either knowing it.

 

Cordelia said nothing and the teacher didn't want to get herself involved in the tension either.

 

Fiona turned her attention back to Misty. "It's okay," The little Cajun shook her head into the phone as though her mother could see her, "but Ma? Can ya' make it for my dance?" 

 

The French mother must've said yes because Misty's face immediately lit up again.

 

" _ J'aime ta Mèma _ [I love you, Mame] _ ," _ Misty shouted into the phone, " _ J'aime ta Mèma. _ " 

 

Cordelia wondered if those words would sound as sweet on her own tongue.

 

###

 

_ [Two hours later] _

 

The stage grew dark and Fiona wondered why Indra was not here yet. Just as the wispy blonde was about to call her beloved friend, her new Motorola StarTAC rang and she rushed to pick it up, earning a few glares from parents around.

 

"Fiona Goode here," she spoke quietly into the receiver. 

 

"This is Nurse Kelly from Orleans Keller Emergency Department, this number was listed as an emergency contact for Miss Indra Baudin-Day. We were unable to contact her husband. May I know what is your relation to her?"

 

Fiona's eyes bore into the red curtain that had yet to be raised.

 

And she rose slowly, with the last sense of steadiness she had, she excused herself and finally stumbled out of the tight row of the dark red cushioned chairs. Her feet felt like they had a thousand sandbags tied onto them.

 

Dread began to fill her even before she had reached backstage and the icy river which was fear coursed through her already blue veins. On her shoulder sat a monster as heavy as earth. 

 

"Girls!" A disheveled Fiona rushed through the throng of girls who were in the same exact pink tutu suit, "Girls! Delia! Misty!" Her voice rang shriller and shriller with each call, growing in urgency. 

 

She could feel her heart tearing itself apart.

 

The whole production which was set to start in the next ten seconds was abruptly put to a halt by the wispy blonde's frantic shouts.

 

"Mother!" Cordelia was the first to spot her mother who was in black. Fingers still formed in the shape of scissors from an earlier game of rock, paper and scissors, her daughter looked up with innocent eyes that couldn't possibly understand...

 

Fiona could feel the earth shift. She had a look of dread washed over her face, pale as a white ghost. With a single swoop, the mother scooped the now 8 year old Cordelia off the floor. She rarely ever did that since Cordelia had gotten significantly heavier over the years now but that did not matter.

 

"We got to go, come now," Fiona gestured for Misty to follow.

 

"Why? Where's Ma?" Misty said, running after the tall woman who took steps larger than what the curly blonde could cope with but nonetheless, she tried to keep up.

 

Fiona pressed her lips together so tight it hurt her but what she could not say hurt her more than anything else. 

 

With tightly pursed lips, she gave Cordelia a peck on her forehead. A gesture that told Cordelia something was really wrong.

 

"Mother, what happened?" She asked, pulling herself away so she could face her mother.

 

"Do you mind if I carry Misty?" Fiona looked back at her daughter with teary eyes, "I can't carry you both." But without waiting for a reply, she put her daughter down on the floor and picked the Cajun up. Cordelia felt hurt. Did her mother love Misty more?

 

"Ms. Fiona, what's happenin?" Misty was pressed tightly into Fiona's chest, with her chin resting on the latter's shoulder. 

 

There was still no reply. 

 

"Get in," Fiona said as she opened the car door with one hand, Cordelia climbing in under the arm that held the door open and buckled herself into the seat silently contemplating of her childish jealousy that tormented her.  _ Why was Misty so special?  _

 

Fiona used her hip to hold the door while she put one hand behind Misty's head and put her into the car seat. "Misty, I want you to know that-"

 

But a car on the street honked loudly and she never got to hear what Fiona had to say. She remembered blinking thrice but that was the last of her memories for everything that happened later became a blur.

 

"Misty, your Mother is-" There was a loud ringing sound in the curly blonde's ears and sounds became blocked out as she looked at Fiona mouth the words in perpetual silence, "Misty, do you understand what I am saying?" 

 

But Misty looked on with furrowed brows sparingly. 

 

"Misty?" Fiona looked all around the wild blonde, "Misty?" She called out again, shaking the girl. But it was like a piece of the girl had gone missing already.

 

Cordelia looked on, worried. Her bottom lip was troubled by her teeth and a familiar metallic taste was once again there to greet her. Maybe Misty was listening to all the jealousy in her mind. But why was Fiona so nice to Misty? Why did it feel like Misty was Fiona's daughter instead of herself. But seeing Misty in her state of shock, she suddenly felt surge of apologies rush through her like an unassuming wave and she wanted to-

 

"Is Ma- dead?" Misty snapped out of her gaze. 

 

The start of something new did not always have good beginnings. 

 

_ I'm free, free fallin' _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be taking the next two weeks off from writing to recharge a little and hopefully come back with better chapters! Thanks for understanding!


	13. Start of Something New: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot even begin to explain how sorry I am for leaving this story un-updated for about two months without any warning whatsoever. I hope this really makes it up. After this chapter, there will be 2 more to go (including an epilogue). I would love if you were to put "When we were young" by Adele on repeat for this chapter. Happy reading!

_ [Mid-Therapy Session 6] _

 

Cordelia played with her fingers, not looking at the psychiatrist. She felt that if she did, Zoe would know everything she was thinking about. And those were bad, bad thoughts.

 

"In our last session we talked about your mother being back in LA, didn't we?" 

 

"No," She hoped her direct answer would be able to deflect any more incoming questions the therapist had in mind.

 

Her hand was finally free of the cast and as she put it next to her right hand, it was significantly smaller in size, having lost its muscle mass over the past six weeks it had been trapped in it's mini-sized jail.

 

She wondered how Hank was doing in his own manhole.

 

Zoe closed the book with a thump and she rubbed her palms on her thighs. "Okay, Cordelia, we can talk about this in the next session. I'll see you again in a week?"

 

"Okay," Cordelia gave a slight smile. She wanted to get out of there.

 

"Oh, before you go," Zoe asked, stopping Cordelia in her tracks, "This is so unprofessional but I have a pair of tickets to watch the New York City Ballet. They rarely ever come by to the west coast but Kyle couldn't make it last minute so maybe you could convince Misty to go? I asked her earlier but she was adamant about not going." The brunette gave a shrug while looking through one of her drawers to find the crisp tickets.

 

"Misty won't go," Cordelia turned back to look at the psychiatrist.

 

Zoe gave a puzzled look, seeking more understanding, "But Misty Copeland is performing! Rarely do we ever get another Misty in town. She'll be excited."

 

"Misty's mother died during our ballet recital at the end of second grade. We don't do ballet anymore. Or watch concerts. At least I think that is why."

 

"OH," Zoe let out a series of apologies, "I never knew. Should we talk about this?"

 

_ "We don't talk about it."  _

 

Besides, Cordelia had other thoughts on her mind.

 

###

 

Misty ate peanut butter out of the jar on the top of her black kitchen counters that faced towards the country club. Cordelia was just dazing off into nothing with the TV set on mute again. That was all she ever did these days, it was like she was contemplating something.

 

"Heya, Dee?" the curly blonde called out, sticking another finger into the jar, "Ya' wanna take a walk around LA ta'day? I'm free an' we could do lots of things an maybe I could get ya' a bike?"

 

Cordelia turned around and put her arm on the back of the sofa. She just looked at Misty and contemplated the suggestion, running through her head were a thousand different possibilities of getting taken again. 

 

"It's good ta' get some fresh air," Misty backed her proposal, "And we could get ya'a phone and maybe we could go walk on Santa Monica Pier… There are a lotta' things ta' do in SoHo… Ya' want some?" She pushed her cream covered hands towards Cordelia, and reminisced, "We used to do this." 

 

The straight blonde moved her gaze from her laced hands onto the wooden structure that held the TV console. With stars occupying her mind, Misty's words seemed to just slip by. And they sat in silence.

 

Cordelia kicked her feet into the sofa. "I've been to Santa Monica Pier," She finally said, pushing her hair behind her ears, "It was the first time Hank and I went out together, you know? I think that was maybe 5 years ago, I don't know. It took him a long time to trust me." She gave a corporate smile towards Misty, "If you want us to be a couple then maybe we could start there too." 

 

"He brought you out?" Misty asked, her fingers stilled mid-sentence and they drooped back down to her sides, setting the jar down.

 

"Yea.. And we walked down the hollywood boulevard and took photos. I used to wear glasses. I don't know where they are now, actually." The straight blonde looked around, "I must've left them at the old house."

 

Misty shook her head and creased her eyebrows, "I don't remember ya' wearin' spectacles when we were younger..." 

 

"My eyesight got worse when I was with Hank. I read books in the dark all the time because he wouldn't turn on the cellar light," Cordelia shrugged, "My favourite is…  _ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland." _

 

"Why?" 

 

With another shrug, Cordelia dismissed the curly blonde's question with a short answer, "I like the ending." 

 

Misty, still sitting on the counter, simply used her feet to open one of the drawers and tossed the finished jar in the dustbin that laid inside. There was silence until the water from the tap came pattering down on the metal sink next to her. "Is ya' boo-boo scar still there?" the Curly blonde ended up asking as her friend rose effortlessly from the couch.

 

"Which one?" Cordelia asked, looking at the shackled marks around her ankle that were finally just fleeting bruises, "Oh." She realized after a beat, flipped her right hand over. "The one I got from touching the stove when we were younger? No, it's gone. I think."

 

"Oh. Well, that's good. Shows that scars do really fade with time, don't ya' think so?" Misty jumped off the counter and walked towards her friend. The Cajun's smile became wider as she stepped closer, "Come on, let's go out." And she stuck her hand out, just like when they were little, hoping that Cordelia would take her cold digits.

 

And Cordelia did just so.

 

###

 

Cordelia adjusted the large fisherman hat over her head of blonde hair, "Does it look good?" She asked softly, looking into the tiny mirror that was drilled into the side of the hat cart. 

 

"Yes!" Misty squealed at how adorable Cordelia looked with the white titfer, it went perfectly well with the beige, brown dress. "We'll get that, thank ya'," the curly blonde who had her hair up in a ponytail chirped to the vendor.

 

"Very well, that would be Twenty-Eight in total," the man said, smiling, "You from along the coast? Sisters or lovers?" The shop owner couldn't help but stick his nose in their lives while looking for change for the fifty dollar note Misty had given him.

 

Misty looked at Cordelia who was biting her lip.

 

"We grew up together in New Orleans," Misty decided, smiling at the man before receiving her change.

 

"Explains the difference in the hair," He said, "Your is WOAH," his hand gestures were all over the place in front of Misty and the two of them laughed politely along, "Good day to be out ladies. Have a great one!" He waved and they departed.

 

It was indeed a good day to be out. Under their sandals, loose sand crinkled against the space between their rubber soles and the wooden planks. Cordelia squinted her eyes and looked out into the glimmering sea. The blue was fragmented by rough waves that made a loud swooshing sound when it hit the concrete pier. 

 

Cordelia looked at Misty and looked away when Misty turned towards her. She stole another look before taking Misty's hands in hers. The salty air felt like a refreshing change.

 

Misty looked down at their intertwined hands and smiled, bringing Cordelia's hand up as she moved a strand of hair out of her face. She gripped her the shorter blonde’s hand tighter. 

 

Their smiles were thrown outward in the sea like shy teenagers on a date.

 

They rested their arms on the metal railings and looked out moment was so blissful. 

 

In that moment, however, Misty felt a question bubble grow within her. She tried to ignore it and her mouth contorted, trying to keep her cursed words from escaping. But alas, she asked, "I don't understand. Why didn't ya' run away?" 

 

Cordelia looked at Misty with a gaze that told the curly blonde that she had expected this question, "I uh… Sometimes I don't understand myself either." She looked back at Misty as a gust of wind blew at their hair. She reached up to hook the blonde strands behind before continuing, "I think… I didn't want to take the risk. Hank and I, we were in a really good place at that time. And running away... It would destroy all that." 

 

They held their gazes at each other, Misty prompting Cordelia to continue but that was it. The plain truth did not seem enough to suffice.

 

In turn, Cordelia asked, "What did you do? All those years without me." 

 

"I… I ended up movin' ta' Chicago after all. About half a year later," Misty said regretfully. Her voice simmered like boiling water, wavering her sea of tears. "It was all too much. Too much." She stole a glossy wayward glance at her friend. 

 

"Is that where you wrote all those words in the black notebooks?" Cordelia asked, "I… I loved you when we were younger. I tried to show you that but you were dismissive if anything. I didn't know you loved me. I truly didn't. If I did, I would've fought harder. I would've..."

 

Misty looked at her friend, "I didn't know what I had lost until I lost ya'. I was so strung up, so stubborn. I wish I had been better ta' ya'. I wish ya' fought harder."

 

"Being with Hank is something I don't think you can possibly wrap your head around. When I was with him, I felt needed. That was really until he decided I was too old and used up but that's another thing. All those years prior to that, I felt wanted. As insane as it sounds, he gave me something Fiona couldn't have possibly given me. In his own warped up way of it, he loved me."

 

"He loved ya'-" Misty hid her scoff in fear of being rude. 

 

Cordelia held her hand up. "Let me finish," she said sternly. "He put me through a  _ hell  _ lot of  _ shit _ . Yes, I acknowledge that but I was his  _ world _ for those years. Our lives revolved around each other. Fiona didn't love me. She loved you more. All of them loved you more but Hank… Hank, he picked me. He  _ picked _ me." Her index finger pointed to her heart. She laughed pathetically, on the verge of tears, "He loved me. He truly, truly did."

 

Misty put her hand on Cordelia's shoulders. She wished not to say anything more to hurt the straight blonde and as the tears seeped out of Cordelia's eyes painfully slow, she stood there and waited until her friend was ready to talk again. 

 

There was a good silence until Cordelia filled the gap, "But today is good. The past few weeks have been good; to wake up, knowing I am not going to have to walk around all day in shackles, to breath in the fresh air; to have the sun kiss your face. All these things may seem simple but when you've been… Life is good after all, isn't it? God is good."

 

The wild blonde opened her mouth to say something but chose against it, she smiled and they continued to walk down the pier until there would be no more wooden planks under their feet. Staring out into the near horizon, everything felt at bliss finally.

 

###

 

"Dee, are ya' sure ya' don't want me to come with ya'," Misty asked again, eyeing Cordelia suspiciously. They both stood at the bottom of Misty's apartment block, looking out at the road splayed out in front of them. In Cordelia's hands, she held onto the handles of her new cruiser bike which had a less aggressive stance than Misty's own bike.

 

This would be the first time in years since she was on a bike and Cordelia was sure she was going to fall. And Misty was worried about that happening and insisted on following. Their faces were both black with frustration.

 

"Misty, I'm a grown woman now," Cordelia sighed, mounting her bike, "Besides, I have Google Maps if I ever get lost! And I have my phone and you can call me if you're worried. And it's only a 15-minute ride to the Museum of Art. I just want some alone time," She finally admitted, "Please?" 

 

"Fine," Misty huffed and crossed her hands over her chest, "But don't ya' dare not pick up ma' calls, okay? An' be back before it gets dark, please?"

 

"Fair," Cordelia smiled triumphantly and she stuck her tongue out at her curly blonde friend. 

 

Misty looked away like a petulant child, still reluctant to let Cordelia go but as Cordelia pushed and pedaled away, Misty turned back around and shouted, "Stay safe!" 

 

Cordelia's mouth remained a frown. She knew if Misty found out where she was headed for, she would not be able to ride alone ever again.

 

Instead of the fifteen-minute biking as promised, the route was actually extended by one hour. With unforeseen time lost from things like traffic lights, the journey would've been easily an hour and a half. But whatever she had told Misty was not entirely wrong either. 

 

Yes, it was a fifteen-minute bike ride to the Museum but from there, she was going to grab a Taxi to Men's Central Jail, which would just take her another 10 minutes or so. She simply omitted information. That, she did not consider lying. Simply put, she was protecting Misty from the truth.

 

This journey was not a last minute plan. She had been dying to see Hank behind bars for whatever reason and had carefully planned out this trip so that Misty would not be suspicious. 

 

Plus, this would also mean at least two good hours from Misty's hovering presence that had grown stifling. She felt sorry for feeling that way but with a shrug, shook the feeling off. That was what she was good at, lying and hiding her feelings like a trained actor. She perfected those skills when she was with Hank.

 

Her lungs were on fire by the time she had completed the 15-minute ride. They were not used to working this hard. And it felt like she was drowning in her own sweat too.

 

Conveniently enough, there was a long line of Taxis already queuing, ready to pick up tourists. She slung her satchel bag over her shoulders and made her way to one of them.

 

"Men's central jail please," She quipped while clicking her seatbelt in place. Wouldn't want to die on the way there, she thought. The driver stroked his beard as he shifted the gear up to move, "You sure, lady? Why you visitin'?" His voice was raspy and it reminded her of Misty's own special voice.

 

"A relative," She replied coolly to throw off any further questions. Enjoying the fresh blast of air conditioning, she took her phone out and began to play with it.

 

On the Google page, she typed in:  _ What to say to your Kidnapper. _

The results that came out were useless on most ends. They taught you how to escape a hostage situation and about Stockholm syndrome. Nothing much about what to say when you saw the person you faced for the longest time. 

 

If Cordelia were to describe what she felt like now, she would describe it as butterflies in her stomach. Not the good, gentle butterflies but the ones with sharp teeth that would eat away at your stomach.

 

"We're here, Miss," the man said and she paid him 50 bucks and told him to keep the change.

 

Onwards, she marched forth.

 

###

 

"Ma'am, can I have you place your phone and any other electronic devices on the counter?" Security in blue said, pointing to a wicker basket on the counter, "You can collect it later as you exit through here again."

 

Gently, she pulled the phone from her pocket, raising her hands as the man scanned her with what looked like an elongated taser. 

 

"Clear," Security guy announced, waving Cordelia through, "You may follow him over there," he pointed to another one of those guards who looked all the same in their identical uniforms. She gave a weak smile before trudging forth, hand wrapped tightly onto the satchel bag she had. 

 

Her shoes made soft thumps on the grey, hard concrete floors that stretched throughout the long hallway. This part of the jail still had natural light shining in through the metal barred windows from the top. There was something artistic about the way it blocked the sun. "Ma'am, this way please," the guard said as he made a left turn into a room.

 

It was grey all over and in the middle, there was a concrete raised up to the middle, followed by what was bulletproof glass that reached all the way to the ceiling. If anything, it looked like the money exchange.

 

Cordelia apprehensively took her seat on the cushioned swivel chairs. On each side of the glass that separated the goods and the bads, there were two guards at the doors. Both had vintage-looking phone booths.

 

"You can have up to one hour, Ma'am," he said, "You may choose to stop the session prior to the one hour being up but if anything gets violent, the session will stop immediately. Shall we bring him out now?" 

 

Cordelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 

"Yes," She said, "Yes." 

 

"Alright, bring him out," he clicked onto his walkie-talkie.

 

"Over," it spoke in a crackling voice.

 

The heavy gates opened and a man in an orange jumpsuit was pushed out before the guards secured it tightly again with a dull clank.

 

###

 

Hank looked pleasantly surprised when he saw the familiar head of blonde sitting on the other side of the glass. He hit his fist against the glass, startling Cordelia so badly she scampered to her feet to back away almost immediately, almost falling. 

 

"HEY!" the guard yelled, rushing to help Cordelia.

 

Her face contorted into a frown, fighting against her tears. 

 

"Sit down! Sit down!" Hank cheered like a drunkard into the phone on his side, plopping down onto his own seat, watching Cordelia's reaction closely. He was glad even behind bars, he still had so much power over her. Cordelia gripped herself elbow to elbow before sliding back into her own chair. She willed herself not to cry once more. No more tears could be shed in front of this wretched man.

 

Hank had a smug look on his face, as though he had been expecting her to visit sometime soon. She picked up the phone on her side.

 

"I knew you would come," he said, confirming Cordelia's suspicions of him being in her head. She was sure that he knew what she was thinking of every minute of the day. All of a sudden, she grew afraid of all the bad things she had thought about him.

 

With a shaky exhale, she asked, "How have you been?" 

 

"Other than being locked in a shithole you put me in, I'm doing o k a y," he eyed her like she was the criminal instead, "I thought I could trust you." 

 

With the guilt brewing in her stomach, she swallowed the saliva that pooled in her mouth. The acid that churned killed all the butterflies earlier. Her teeth troubled her lip like she always did when she was nervous. 

 

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, not daring to look him in the eye.

 

"You let me down," he reiterated as if she didn't already know. There was something about him that had the capability of making her feel like the prey. She was like a gazelle who was between a lion's paw and she was supposed to beg him to eat her. Be dead or dead; those had always been her options.

 

A whimper escaped her mouth. 

 

"Look at me," he bellowed suddenly, causing Cordelia's frightened brown eyes to snap up immediately, seeking for forgiveness between fury. He softened his voice, "You look very pretty. I haven't laid eyes on you for a long time now… _ Haven't I _ ?" 

 

She choked and gave a spluttering cough. 

 

Used to her silence and tears, he continued his prying questions about Misty and Fiona until he finally sighed, "Why did you come visit me?"

 

Cordelia held her breath mid-hiccup, shocked by his question. She thought he knew what was going on in her head. Almost instantly, she felt she had gained some power over her speech and she didn't want to tell him why she had visited.

 

But the words slipped out like she no longer knew herself. She told him about Fiona's disappointing visit and she found herself telling him things she swore never to tell a soul. She found her mouth betraying her very own self. And the words poured out like the rain poured out from the clouds up above. Even he grew quiet. 

 

The skies grew darker by the minute.

 

When there were no more words, the thunder in the grey sky roared. She sat there quietly when her left hand on her lap, soundlessly crying. 

 

"I came..." She finally continued after multiple heartbeats had passed. 

 

Her words lingered in the air like broken thoughts in her mind. The panic bird was knocking on the door wildly, ready to be let in already. 

 

She put her mouth so close to the receiver, and whispered, "Because you love me and I thought it would be right if I came to tell you I am moving on."

 

"Lynette," he called her and she flinched at the name.

 

He scoffed, "You came here to tell me you were moving on? Lynette, look at me," he used his free hand to gesture to his blatant orange jumpsuit, "I am _ clearly _ insane. The  _ fuck _ , I loved you?" He flashed her crazy eyes.

 

It took her a minute to process the information. She had never been the quickest at that. But when she did, her mind pretended that the phone was Hank's neck and her fingers wrapped tight, leaving no breathing air between. Her pretty face twisted with a mix of denial and defiance but she choked on the throaty sadness that piled up. The muscles in her jaw burned.

 

Her head hung so low that Hank could not see if she was crying. He knew he had already lost Cordelia at the second sentence because her eyes suddenly turned glazed like a donut and the blankness in them was growing by the second.

 

"Lynn, listen," he called out voicelessly into the phone but even his strong voice could not grasp her slipping body. 

 

Tears clouded her vision as she stared, frozen to the spot. 

 

Nothing seemed to make any sense anymore and the concentric circles of fear continued widening until she would no longer see the floor underneath her. Her breathing seemed to be the loudest thing in the room even though Hank's screaming and thrashing on the other side. Flustered, she dropped the rest of the phone, leaving it hanging by its metal cord and left the room. 

 

She took all the required steps to get away from Hank, as far away as possible. As she neared the front of the station, she heard the excited chatter of policemen looking to pass time. She greeted them with a solemn smile. Her mind felt full of rancid thoughts. 

 

With her mouth still frozen into the slight curve, she retrieved her phone from the counter, she saw that Misty had called at least 8 times in the past…  _ One hour?!  _ There were 5 voicemails, each one growing in frequency.

 

Her fingers trembled against the phone's touchscreen as she pressed lightly on the mail and brought the phone up to her ear.

 

_ You have 5 new voice messages. _

 

_ Voice message 1 _

_ Beep. "Heya' Dee, why didn't ya' pick up my call? I thought ya' promised me ya' would. Anyway, seems ta' be some emergency in the hospital so I'm gonna' drop by for a bit. Call me back soon." _

 

_ Voice message 2 _

_ Beep. "Dee? Ta' museum doesn't allow ya' ta' use ya' phone, right? The weather forecast says it's gonna rain very heavily soon. Call me back." _

 

_ Voice message 3 _

_ Beep. "Cordelia. Ya' are gettin' me worried. Where are ya'? The emergency at the hospital wasn't as emergent as stated an' Kyle is gettin' ta' it. I'm headin' on over ta' the museum now. Ya' can't possibly ride back in this rain."  _

 

_ Voice message 4 _

_ Beep. "CORDELIA?! WHERE ARE YA'? I am at ta' museum an' ta' lady said ya' ain't been here at all?! What's happenin'?" _

 

_ Voice message 5 _

_ Beep. "Why are ya' at the Men's central prison. When I get there, ya' are gonna have a lot of explainin' ta' do. Ya' can't just disappear on me like this again. FUCK! Stay where ya' are I am comin'." _

 

_ No more new voice messages. _

 

She felt herself flutter down into a place of emptiness. Not bothering to call Misty back, she walked out into the rain with a police officer chasing her down with an umbrella. 

 

"Ma'am, are you okay?" He asked, voice low and sympathetic, "You're going to catch a cold."

 

She nodded even though her chin trembled with so much sadness. At the end of her throat, an "I'm okay," simmered in her vocal chords, stuck and unwilling to let go. She did not know what to do anymore.

 

The policeman shoved the umbrella into her hand and ran back into the jail behind her. 

 

She allowed the black funeral umbrella to float away with the wind. Away, and away until she could not see it through the thick rain. She did not know what to make of with Hank's words. This man that she had spent the last two decades with suddenly did not love her anymore. All that she had known in this world felt like one big stupid lie. 

 

This dream she had been chasing after… 

 

The skies unleashed armfuls and armfuls of rain upon her, as though washing her of her sins and sadness. But even with the whipping of each rain drop, she could never be cleansed. Walking in this rain, she wondered if this was why people enjoyed walking in the rain so much. Nobody could really see anybody else cry. 

 

She walked further into the rain until the lights of the central jail shone only as bright as a dim lantern. There was a darkness on the edge of town and Cordelia was walking right into it.

 

###

 

Misty ran her surgery skilled hands through her hair helplessly as she waited for the red light to turn green. She was only about two more streets away from the Men's Central Jail and she hoped Cordelia had not left yet. Her heart thumped against her ribcage and the windshield wiper hit heavily, screeching against her newly polished windscreen.

 

The sky was a blanket of grey and Misty could not tell the difference between the sky and the clouds anymore. Ahead of her were endless strings of cars that were waiting for the lights to turn green.

 

One hand still on the steering wheel, she flipped her phone to check for any missed messages of calls. It was a strange feeling but she felt her heart do a little jump inside of her just as the cars started to crawl. Her eyes fell lazily back onto the road.

 

All of a sudden, the red hind lights from all the cars in front of her lit up. The trucker a couple of cars ahead of her obstructed the view ahead. It had come to an abrupt stop, causing her to slam on her breaks so fast and hard she felt her feet sink into the metal of her car.

 

A brooding silence fell over the vehicles but within seconds, the first car honked loudly and the rest of the cars followed suit, wondering what the hold up was. They began to make swift turns into the next lane as the cars shuffled out of the way.

 

Dread for some reason began to fill her like icy water beneath a frozen lake. 

 

If there was an accident, Misty decided she would need to help. Cordelia could wait a few more minutes. _ This person couldn’t _ . Frustrated, she shuffled into the next lane before swerving right back into the same lane a couple of cars ahead of the truck and stopped the car with a crank. 

 

She grabbed her phone and dialed for the hospital, “Hello this is Dr. Misty Day. I think there is an automobile accident roughly two streets from the men’s central jail …… I’ll assess the crash first …… Yes, send an ambulance. Thanks.”

 

Her hand searched for the umbrella that was in the backseat of her SUV and opened the door to the rainy earth. 

 

She ran a couple of steps before slowing down nearer the site of carnage. The trucker was already staring at the body. 

 

“I swear she just came out of nowhere,” he said, panicky. 

 

“I swear to god this is the worst day," she murmured under her breath. "Come here and hold the umbrella,” her hands went into the rain and beckoned him nearer. She couldn’t really see him in the thick of this rain. And the body was still a distance away and it was not moving, which almost never meant anything good. 

 

Misty’s grey cardigan was already slapped wet on her skin, her hair a dark blonde. 

 

Approaching quickly, she knew there was a Golden minute to save this person. “How hard do ya’ think ya’ hit the victim?” Misty’s raspy voice fought loudly against the thunderous weather. 

 

“I don’t know! Maybe 40-50mph! I swear she just ran out of nowhere. The light was already green!” He yelled back. 

 

“Hey can ya’ help me make a call ya’ my friend. I was supposed to pick her up. She’s the first one on the call page,” Misty said as she nodded in understanding. She could now see that the victim was a blonde woman. The woman had been flung face down onto the floor. “Ma’am?” The wild blonde called out as she approached. She was only about two feet away now. 

 

The trucker took the doctor’s phone and put the phone on speaker. The dialing vibrated against each raindrop. 

 

“Ma’am, can ya’ hear me?” Misty’s voice was slightly nasal. She bent down and assessed the situation, “Ma’am.” She tried again, noticing the trail of blood that pooled around. The woman's ears had blood running down them too. It looked like a fractured skull but that could mean anything from a concussion to something worse like a subdural hemorrhage.

 

The call went to voicemail. 

_ /Hey it’s Cordelia Goode.  _

 

The doctor squatted down. Her hands now inches away from the body. 

 

“Miss,” she changed the call as she now noticed how young the woman was. As the trucker looked on precariously, Misty put her hands on the shoulder of the woman and rotated her over, she supported the woman's head too.

 

_ /Looks like you’ve called me at a bad time! I’m having fun with- ITS MISTY HERE.  _

 

When the curly blonde doctor removed her supporting hand, she found them coated with fresh red blood. The occipital lobe was definitely the one that took the most damage.

 

_ /CORDELIA HAS TO GO NOW! She’ll call ya' back in a jiffy.  _

 

The blonde hair had grown stuck on the person’s face. Using one hand to feel for the carotid pulse, her other hand removed the chunk of blonde strands that obscured her view. 

 

Misty felt her heart stop. 

 

_ /Yea, I’ll call you back as soon as possible. If it’s important, please leave a message.  _

 

Cordelia laid there, red blood diluted with the dirty water that washed out the screed from the roads. No pulse, limbs all akimbo. On her pale skin, there were red raw marks of being flung and a bruise had already begun to form on the left side of her body where the truck had hit her. 

 

The wild blonde's face scattered away, strong wind taking each piece as realization settled deep into her bones. This felt worse than the first time she stood in the mirror without Cordelia next to her. 

 

_ /Misty wants me now! Call you back so- DEE COME ON SLOWPOKE! Their laughter erupted, crackled by the low quality.  _

 

“Cordelia!” Misty couldn’t contain her screaming gasps as her eyes burned with  _ Cordelia tears  _ that she never knew she still had within her. She thought she had spent them all in the showers and at school, in bed and between breaks. But the transparent droplets kept materializing from air.

 

Her quipped movements were frantic as she tried to put Cordelia's soul back into her body. The sharp pain grew in stabs from Misty's jaw all the way to the middle of her stomach. Her heart squeezed as she fell over to her knees on the dirtied road next to her beloved friend. 

 

Death hovered, dived in and all at once, Misty had warmer hands than Cordelia now. She put her hand atop of Cordelia's relatively flat chest. No rise, no fall. No dull thumping of a heartbeat. Just an empty shell left to rot just as promises are made to be broken. Her heart clenched in on itself. You know the feeling when you're on a rollercoaster or when you've simply thought there was one more step to the staircase and you're prepared with your foot one step higher than its supposed to be? When your feet dangled in the in between, mind telling you not to drop but your heart had already fallen with the weight. It felt like that.

 

The wind blew fallen damp leaves in their direction and they get just one last dance around them both. All the glossies of their short intertwined lives flashed before the wild blonde's eyes and she knew in that moment, she had lost Cordelia. From the cross in her childhood church to Fiona's glossy eyes. Ma's dead body under a white sheet. Cordelia was gone.

 

The weight of death sank her lower as she bent down to kiss Cordelia's ghoulish lips. She picked up lifeless fingers in her own, trying to give her some life but Cordelia's soul had already risen above. This felt so terribly final.

 

_ /Their giggles were cut abruptly. _

“ _ Please leave your message after the beep.” _

 

"It's still here, Dee," Misty blubbered. Her thumb rubbed over the unmistakable pink mark left by the stove when they were just four years old. It had faded away into such a pale color it was almost unnoticeable against Cordelia's pale clammy skin. "I wished you had fought harder. I wished ya' had." 

 

All these  _ hads _ in their life when they should  _ have _ .

 

 

 


	14. Her Name is Cordelia: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

Motherless; that was the worst thing that could happen to a child.

 

Misty sat on the edge of a curb, silently mourning the loss of her mother. If dead people could reach their hands out of their grave to choke living people, that would be the way Misty would describe her feeling right now.

 

The dead haunt through the hollow living, all emptied out by the dark grief that resided within them now. Her whole life, Misty had had a mother. But now she had to live without one and the pain is worse than having to live through hell. Her sadness was like the color black. Whatever it touched, it swallowed them whole, growing in size as it went along. 

 

Many times later in the afternoon, Cordelia would peek out from the balcony just staring at Misty who would be staring at the ghost of her mother. The strong woman Fiona had reduced in bits of her useless old self. And when alcohol finally took over her, the slap of reality seemed to overtake her.

 

But it would be too late.

 

###

 

One day, two years later, Cordelia picked up the pencil on her desk, put down just a second earlier to reply Misty who was having a fit in the kitchen about not having enough bagels around when she was the one who had eaten all of them just the previous day. 

 

Since Indra died, Misty had been insufferable. And there wasn't even a nicer way to put it.

 

More often than not, the wild blonde child would throw tantrums at random, sweeping up everyone in her path together with it. But despite all of that, Cordelia knew that Misty's tantrums were only the tip of the iceberg.

 

Having been roommates in for the bulk of their lives together now, Cordelia knew to ignore Misty's hidden whimpers at night long after they were both tucked into the duvet by Misty's father, or sometimes even Spalding. 

 

Cordelia averaged it out to be 10 still heartbeats after the men had left before Misty's tears would flow freely onto the cold white pillow.

 

It would start like a with an uncomfortable shuffle on the bed, Misty twisting and turning until she faced away from her straight blonde friend. Then, she began to purge the tears like a bulimic against the toilet. They kept coming and they kept coming. The tears fell from breath to breath until the even stillness of sleep took over the wild blonde. Somedays are different. Somedays, Misty would not hear her mother's thin accented voice. Somedays, she would sleep a good nights sleep. Somedays, it wouldn't bother her at all and a whole day would pass without a tear of her Ma. 

 

Unfortunately for them both, some days are not most days. On some days that Misty forgets, the night would come howling and grief would pull out its secret weapen, wanting to be acknowledged again. It pulled out guilt. Guilt of not missing her Ma for every single second of the day. Guilt of not being a filial child. Guilt for not living her life. Guilt for not being the daughter her mother would have wanted her to be. And guilt was an even worse friend than grief because guilt pulled one person apart. Cordelia feared that one day, Misty would be so deep she would not be able to pull her out.

 

The 11-year-old continued to bite at the tip of her pencil until a good old minute had passed. She no longer knew what to do for her friend anymore.

 

###

 

Cordelia's watchful eye peered down from the balcony of her room, into glass roof of the greenhouse where Misty was. 

 

The wild blonde tween's head was bobbing to another Stevie song that played from the Vinyl player. These days, only Stevie seemed to know how to bring a smile back onto Misty's face. She was twirling in her dress and leather boots, around and around, bumping into the blunt edges of the worn out table.

 

Calmness fell upon Cordelia like a bestowed gift from the heavens. To see her friend so carefree for once let her heart flutter. No one was perfect but to Cordelia, Misty was almost as close as they get.

 

She skipped back into her room, sunshine rays falling upon golden strands of her hair. They spilled like cool honey against the wooden floors. She resumed her seat at her desk, continuing to write in the Moleskine notebook Fiona had gotten her for her birthday. It was the one thing she cherished most.

 

Words spilled all over the ruled book in a light cursive handwriting. 

 

Cordelia bit her lip and gave a side glance in thinking. Her tongue stuck out in deep concentration. She tapped the pen a couple of times against the desk, hoping to gain some rhythm in her thoughts. She thought about all the difficult times they had spent together.

 

Then she wrote:

 

_ You and I, we are such different people. Yet fate led our paths to cross and instead of just passing by, we collided and our lives became intertwined. For as long as I can remember, you had been in my life. Whether or not I was meant to meet you that day over a half-eaten sandwich still taunts me. What if we had never met? What would our lives look like without each other. Fate works in weird ways, don't you think? If I knew my life from start to end– capital letter to period; I would've still chosen you from that sea of children. And I hope you would've chosen me too. And we would have our whole lives spread out in front of us. This life time and the next, and the one after that. I cannot imagine anyone of them without you. _

 

She smiled at her paragraph. 

 

English was her favourite class and listening in it was paying off.

 

###

 

The twist and creak of the front door could be heard all the way from the staircase. Misty's feet padded across their room, not even gesturing for Cordelia to follow. She disappeared around the corner before her friend could even breathe a word.

 

Cordelia crept into the kitchen and saw Misty pouting on a chair near the fireplace. She accidentally tripped over the raised carpet and fell to the floor, Myrtle rushing over to pick the girl up.

 

The wild blonde looked at her friend and gave a slight smile that came by very little these days while the redhead brushed Cordelia's knees. Cordelia took the chance to take a closer look at the wild blonde friend. She had grown thinner over the past two years. Taller, too. There was an unspoken sadness that resided in the under bags of Misty's eyes. 

 

Blue orbs didn't quite sparkle anymore.

 

"Hey Dellie," Gilbert's voice sounded sad, "You want some OJ?" 

 

"Yea, sure," she replied and peeled her eyes off her friend, walking over to the dining table, "Is this a family meeting or what? Where's mother?" 

 

“Fiona is drunk as a bat. Leave her. We just need the two of you here,” Myrtle made large gestures with her hands before finally bending her knobbly knees to sit down on the chair. Cordelia turned and joined her on the large couch.

 

After the brunette man had instructed the butler to work on their drinks, he too joined them by the fireplace, right next to his daughter. 

 

Cordelia bit on her lip. 

 

“So,” The redhead started, looking nervously in the direction of Gilbert. Both girls felt queasy with unease. Whatever was about to come out of Myrtle’s mouth was going not going to be anything short of life-changing. 

 

“Gilbert invited me here today because we have…” she lingered, seemingly afraid of her words, “because…”

 

“I am proposing for Misty to come with me to Chicago.” He sighed, putting his hand up to Cordelia’s open mouth. “But this is going to be temporary… Dellie you are free to come with me too. I’ll get the necessary paperwork from Fiona but she won’t be coming with us.” 

 

“Why not?”

 

“Fiona wants to stay grounded.”

 

“And we’re not staying grounded?”

 

Gilbert sighed. “I don’t know. No, I don’t think so. Misty? What do you have to say?”

 

Misty just stared blankly at the fireplace. The reflection of the firewood in her cerulean blue eyes made them look like they had caught fire. Unimaginable grief melted the blue eyes into a watery puddle. She sniffled and then quickly scrubbed her face with the sleeve of her shirt, hoping that no one would have caught that.

 

“How long is temporary?” Cordelia nervously bit her thumb. Myrtle took one look and swatted the nail from between Cordelia’s teeth, giving a stern look. 

 

Gilbert looked at Misty. “As of now, I don’t know yet. I was offered a seat on the board of directors for the Illinois General Hospital. I’ll be working on their legal team too.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

Cordelia gave Gilbert a look. “Misty won’t go, right Mist? This is where we grew up. I’m not- I’m not moving without Mother.” Cordelia decided. Gilbert shook his head with contempt. He had wished the straight blonde would have gotten on board first so that Misty would follow suite easily. He had failed as a father, really. 

 

Silence screamed for attention throughout the cold house and among the stillness, Cordelia's heart pounded. All eyes were on Misty's indifferent stature. With the passing of time, silence became tiresome. It fed on the very that once used to keep this house alive and everyone seemed too strained to fight back.

 

Life had been so unkind to them. When Misty's raspy voice finally found its way out, the phrase was not what Cordelia had expected. There were two obvious paths Misty could choose from; move to Chicago, stay in New Orleans. The following four words that seemingly tumbled out of her throat felt light, as if they weren't meant to have the power to wash away one version of what Misty's life could have been. Yet she had muttered them in such an unceremonious manner they almost seemed to hold no weight at all.

 

“I’m movin' with Pa." Her words fluttered away with the wind into the forest nearby. 

 

Cordelia's heart fell a thousand feet only to land on a barbed wire fence that sliced right through it. It felt like no matter what she had done for Misty in the past two years, her footprints would always be that of the ones on the beach, too close to the receding sea that they would be swallowed one way or another. "You  _ what?”  _ she gasped, “Misty!" Saliva pooled in her mouth. "You're leaving me behind." her words felt heavy unlike Misty's.

 

“People leave all the time,” Misty shrugged and shook her leg, “It time ta' move on. I want ta' move on." Misty looked straight into Cordelia’s eyes, unashamed of her words. "Dee," she said again, this time slightly heavier, attempting to salvage from her damaging words. She saw the tears Cordelia were blinking back from the harsh reality that was about to come crashing down.

 

The final blow, "I can't stay here anymore."

 

###

 

The wind blew in the direction of the church as Misty cycled her way to the nearby playground, Cordelia struggling to keep up with her. 

 

"Mist, please slow down!" Her lisp jumped in the cold breeze. It was the time between fall and winter and almost all the trees had already shed their red-orange fall coats to fully embrace the bitterness of the winter that was about to come their way.

 

"Why don't ya' just hurry up," Misty yelled back, slightly angered. Cordelia would be fine alone back there. She just needed to get to the playground  _ now _ .

 

Her feet powered her through the empty streets where children once used to play. The weather was already too chilly to be out having a good time and mothers would have been the ones who have the job of keeping the children inside but Fiona was a senseless one.

 

"Oh come on Mist, stop being such a wuss!" Cordelia screeched to a halt, panting heavily but her curly blonde friend just continued to charge on until she grew into a small speck of dot at the end of the road.

 

Cordelia rolled her eyes, looking to the left where she spotted the church in the distance where Misty's mother was buried. She decided if Misty was going to be such a big pain in the ass today, Indra should know about it.

 

Clenching her jaw tightly, she made her way to the chapel that stood out against the flat-roofed houses. Soon enough, she stood in front of it and marveled at the slightly worn down building. Hands on her waist as she squinted her eyes to look at the crucifix above, she prayed that Misty would be alright alone for a bit.

 

The long grass tickled her ankles as she stepped into the backyard of the church, finding a small and neat cemetery at the end.

 

She picked a yellow wildflower that had grown from the crack in the chapel walls. 

 

Slowly, her feet padded towards the concrete headstone. She used her hands to sweep away any leaves that had fallen on the top, her hand black and dirty when she flipped it back over. 

 

It had been long since any of them had visited in Indra, all done in an effort to forget grief. But when it wasn’t acknowledged, the gray feeling made itself known as a tantrum of a young child’s. All of them remained plagued by it. 

 

The clouds were eating away at the bright sun. The straight blonde stared out at it fearlessly. She learned this year that the sun would die one day. When it did, it would swell with rage and swallow all the planets whole. All its people, memories, all gone. 

 

The feeling of being this close to Indra feels absurd in its own way. She wondered if souls lived in their bodies after death, or if they lingered around to haunt their loved ones. Or if it was true, the whole thing about heaven and hell. She wondered if Indra went to heaven. The ache in her heart as Misty's earlier words replayed felt unendurable. The words pulled her apart, not to stitch her back but to leave her soaking in her own blood.

 

She wondered if there was enough blood in a human to drown oneself in it. She stood there, a couple of steps away from the headstone, staring at it as though the powers of her gaze could bring the French mother back.

 

The skies were turning into embers of a flame, leaving an orange hue behind, streaked temporarily against the vast blue. She always thought that the sunset looked like broken fragments of a dead sun. 

 

Before the dark bulgar of the night could come to steal the sun away, Misty arrived. 

 

The sun had set over the other side of the chapel, casting deep and long shadows of themselves across where they were standing. 

 

Misty stood there, silhouette shining against the backdrop of the evening sky. Cordelia though Misty looked like a savior or a knight. Like the game they used to play when they were younger. Wild blonde strands cascaded from the helmet as Misty removed it from its tight grip on her head. 

 

The wild blonde's eyes squinted to get a good look at Cordelia, freckles forming their own constellations under the fading sky. 

 

"Cordelia," she acknowledged, walking closer and closer until their feet and hands touched. Fingertip to fingertip, toe to toe. 

 

"For ta' past two years, Dee," Misty shook her head, looking down, "I've been lookin' for a good reason to leave. Y'know all this has become so painful, it feels like the hurt is never gon' go away. And ta' idea… The idea of leavin'. It's so exhilarating. If I stay, I would be living with this pain forever. Cordelia, I want ya' ta' understand. Please," She turned around so Cordelia was now looking at the back of her wild hair as if to symbolize her impending departure.

 

"But you can never come back," the shorter blonde said, "You leave and you can never come back." 

 

"Ma is never coming back too." 

 

"Misty, please," Cordelia plead, still standing at the spot where Misty left her, "Please." The only thing left to her voice were hiccups that peppered her words. The fear of Misty leaving felt so paralyzing. She wanted to say, _I'll die if you go Misty, I'll really die._ But the wretched words found no place on earth– much less in Misty's heart.

 

"Cordelia, I really want ya' ta' understand me. This is for me. Please, I need to leave this place," a sob broke through as Misty started to take a couple of steps away. 

 

"Just wait a minute-" Cordelia's words were cut off with a muffled word.

 

Misty paused and stood there, a couple of steps ahead of Cordelia, waiting for her friend to continue. To persuade her not to leave, to tell her that this was the wrong choice. But the straight blonde's voice seemed to have floated elsewhere. 

 

When she finally turned around, eyes red with anger and sadness, there was no sign of Cordelia. Just a speeding van that rolled down the hill rapidly.

 

The scream of horror that Misty let out next would be so loud the birds in the neighboring tree scattered in a frenzy. She stopped just to breathe and screamed again, hands clawing at the handles of her bicycle and she attempted to chase after the white vehicle that was already turning into the horizon.

 

Then began the longest day in the history of Misty's life as she flipped every corner of town with her father.

 

She would never forget the look on Fiona's face and that one desolate sob that she let out, shaking from deep within her bones. She couldn't believe her eyes when Fiona fell to her knees, face red and swollen from screaming and crying. Her red anger morphed into a blinding rage as she kicked the road with her shoe until there was a tear at the front and the sole and fabric snapped apart like an alligators mouth. 

 

But nothing could get Cordelia to come back.

 

At the end, she sat down on a curb, face buried in her dirty hands while police sirens went off in the background. The splendid sun was gone and so was Cordelia. 

 

_ Her name was Cordelia. _

 

In the coming weeks, Misty moved across the hallway, away from the memories of Cordelia and into one of their identical guest rooms. As time flew by, each breath became harder to take. The next month, Fiona disappeared. When it all finally became all too suffocating, Misty moved to Chicago with her father where she would remain until after her medical school.

 

When back to stifling heat of Louisiana almost a decade later, doing her residency in the same hospital that her mother once worked in. Even then, _ 1410 Jackson Avenue  _ remained a place she never thought she would ever look back at. Despite Myrtle and Spalding's efforts to upkeep the place occasionally, the loneliness that walked the halls found comfort and grew roots. Cordelia became a distant memory of her childhood– a prick that would not have the option of being pulled out. The case remained unsolved for all those years despite national recognition. But time was the worst enemy of them all and despite Misty's impressive fight to pave time, that chapter of her life shut behind her like an unapologetic slam of the door in ones face.

 

She held on tightly to all the memories she had from the past that she shared with her best friend. It crippled her heart and she knew that no amount of tears would bring Cordelia back. _Forgive me_ , Misty would pray for one last time. _Forgive me for not fighting harder. Forgive me for being so blinded by my grief. Forgive me, Cordelia. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, please._  And she put her hands together and prayed she would one day find the courage to forgive herself.

 

The future's a whole other story.

 

But it is often our pasts that define us. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter which will be an epilogue


	15. Ghosts: Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everybody. Happy reading

It was a chilly winter night almost 40 years later when Fiona died in Paris. When Misty got there the next day, the weather morphed into the coldness that it was now, temperatures falling below 30 degrees Fahrenheit. 

 

Misty stood at the foot of the snow-covered coffin, her thick hair tied into a tight bun with a beret sitting atop, a thick designer coat over her shoulders. She shrugged off the coldness, sunglasses over her frozen face with lips as pale as the sky today.

 

Prayers were said, condolences whispered. The men closed the heavy lid with a soft thump that was muffled but a soft fabric that lined the coffin. "Are we ready?" One of them asked in a French accent. The men swept the fallen snow off of the dark oak coffin with their gloved hands.

 

Misty stroked the urn in her hands. She froze, thinking of something. "Wait, please open it," she whispered after two beats, and the men sighed as they pulled the heavy lid open once again, allowing the snow to free fall onto Fiona's body. It was ghoulish with death and the deep contrast against the black dress she was wearing made her features even paler.

 

The wild blonde put her hand up against the heavy lid of the oak coffin, looking at Fiona's peaceful face once more. She wondered how much Cordelia would've looked like Fiona at this age. Her breath hitched awkwardly, silently mourning the death of the old blonde. Blue eyes admired Fiona one last time, using her free hand to trace against sharp jawlines.

 

She glanced at the white urn she held in her hands, feeling an ache grow in her chest. Very slowly, very carefully, she placed the white painted oak into the coffin, right beside Fiona's right hand. "Misty," she heard Myrtle gasp her name right behind her.

 

"It's where she would've wanted to be," Misty said, not turning back as she put her gloved hand up against Fiona's cold skin, "In her mother's arms." With her thumb, she wiped at the name engraved on the urn. She brought her fingers up to her lips to kiss them, placing one last lingering kiss on the older blonde's face and planted another one on the urn. She could not even bring herself to utter the name of her late friend. 

 

"It's fine now," she told the men who lifted the lid back into place where it would stay locked for the rest of eternity.

 

The wild blonde coughed, a mist of hot air rising. And she coughed again, spluttering, choking on hands that didn't strangle her. Just sobs that were stuck deep within her throat. Desperate cries for all of them to return. Burying Fiona was the equivalent to digging up all the past.

 

She fell to her knees just as the coffin reached the bottom of the pit where Fiona and Cordelia would lay forever now. 

 

This was forever. 

 

###

 

The morning was laced with a fresh fog. It sat simmered just over the tombstones, creating an illusion of clouds that had descended to bring departed souls up to heaven. There was a woman kneeling down at Fiona's grave, dressed in all black. Misty quickened her steps, wondering who it might be. 

 

There was a flash of familiar blonde like when she had first seen Cordelia in the hospital. The woman seemed to sense her presence, quickly rising from her knees, white hands pulling her robe closer to her body as she walked away from Misty, back facing her.

 

Misty felt a sharp pain in her jaw, like someone had stabbed her right there. 

 

A wave of nausea hit the wild blonde, causing her to lurch over in an attempt to lessen the sickness that kept on growing in the pit of her stomach. The burning in her throat grew wider, covering more parts than ever. She felt her tongue roll back and she opened her mouth to let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding so tightly in her lungs.

 

The sweet little pain of losing Cordelia was coming back like a rushing lake, washing over her entire face with the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes.

 

She rushed over, eye watching the flower that the woman left behind to make sure it didn't grow legs to walk away.

 

When she got there, there were two indents made in the fresh soil where the woman kneeled. Misty angled her knees so they slumped directly into them like a cushion. Her black jeans grew wet, as did the fringes of her coat.

 

The sleeve of her coat rose as she reached out to grabbed the flower by its stem, choking it. The spidery veins on her backhand felt more evident than before. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a burry version of a red walking stick that belonged to Myrtle. The redhead's warm hand found its place on Misty's shoulder, providing a silent comfort.

 

"A purple hyacinth," Myrtle whistled.

 

"What's that 'upposed ta' mean," Misty whispered in tears.

 

"Purple hyacinths are often seen as an emblem of forgiveness. Whoever put this here must have wanted forgiveness. It's funny now that I say this but you're holding a bunch of white tulips. Which means forgiveness. Joseph left this here?" Myrtle let out a bitter laugh.

 

Misty shook her head, 'No, it was some'lady." Her gloves hands put the tulips right next to the purple hyacinth. 

 

"Who?" The redhead asked.

 

"I couldn't see her face," Misty said as she stood up after putting her own set of white tulips against the tombstone. Just as she looked up, the lady ran onto the road, intent on crossing. Misty's eyes followed the woman until she made a sharp right turn into the chapel across the street. The wind blew against the woman's hair, revealing half of a pretty face.

 

The wild blonde staggered backwards, almost falling.  _ Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Was this what it felt like when madness had finally come to collect her soul? _

 

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers and water filled them yet again.

 

She had grown so accustomed to the heaviness in her heart and under her eyes that she knew exactly what was going to come next. Her feet would follow her heart that had grown blind from years of awful sorrow. Idle tears sinked down with gravity, leaving a trail of wetness on her cheeks.

 

Her heart turned her body sharply so that it was facing the chapel now. Under the limited daylight that fought through the mist, the colors of the church's stained windows spilled onto the road like spilt milk. 

 

Immediately, her legs broke into a sprint, eyes turned blind towards the oncoming traffic.  _ Did she want to die? Did she want to die? _ She asked herself that question until her head was dizzy with crazy thoughts. _ Did she want to die? _

 

Myrtle gave out a high shriek after her. By the time she was done, Misty's feet were already at the step of the chapel, black shoes ready to step in. Slender hands pressed against the heavy wooden doors and they opened with a creak.

 

The chapel was like a distant dream. Her hot breath rose through the air as her steps became heavy, heels clicking against the floor. It was quiet and there was no lady in sight. Just a man who was cloaked in black, facing the grand alter ahead.

 

"Sorry to interrupt ya', Father David, did ya' see a lady come in here because I think I-" Misty panted, wiping her hands across her face to stop crying. Her voice sank deeply and resonated against the chapel's walls. 

 

"Ahh, my child… There has been no lady who entered this church. Perhaps you have been mistaken," the pastor's voice was deep with condolences, as if he could peer right through Misty's thoughts and wants. 

 

There was a pause, a stillness so quiet that when Misty's legs gave away and she crumpled to the floor, the boom of her collapse was equivalent to that of a loud clap to the side of your ear. Silence seems to have a knack of making things more important, more large. She mumbled something but her words became unclear. 

 

Her blue eyes focussed on the image of the altar ahead. And when the image no longer sufficed, she looked down on the floor and at her coat, bunched up about her waist. The weight of injustice was the heaviest yet. 

 

Misty felt her body succumb to the heavy feeling, trapping her in a cycle of grief yet again. She rose shakily to her feet and ran out, black coat floating behind her as she darted through the crowd of bystanders who gave her looks like they would a mad woman.

 

She had completely lost any semblance of sanity because the search for Cordelia's ghost ran around in her head in circles and circles. She was almost sure she had seen Cordelia.  _ Almost so certain.  _ She was so certain because the woman had looked like a dream she had had just a couple of days ago. These days, the lines between dreams and memories have blurred. And just around there, the wild blonde found the most vivid of imageries, the ones about their childhood. Many people believed that memories faded with time.

 

But the way Misty saw it, the best memories did not fade with time. They grow clearer and clearer until you can recall every single detail about that person. 

 

Myrtle tried her best to keep up despite her bad knobbly knees, watching with a wary eye as Misty immersed herself in the sadness that surround them, almost drowning them both.

 

Perhaps acceptance did not come as easily as flowers did and the blonde lady disappeared back into the thick of the snow. There would be no more Cordelia, no more Fiona, and no more Indra. Just Misty against her own world now.

 

The wild blonde stood there, hair against the wind that froze her face. She turned behind and they were all standing there, beckoning her to follow them into the light. Cordelia, Indra, Pa and Fiona would continue to die tomorrow and the day after and the day after that because grief was a haunting that would never cease. The pain would never go away. 

 

"Myrtle," she called out, "They're all here." 

 

"They're with us all the time, Misty." Myrtle replied, finally coming close enough to the child she never had. She felt the shame of losing Cordelia so early. Misty and Cordelia, they had their whole lives spread out before them. They were holding on to each other so tightly, so afraid to lose the other one again but in the end, they were not to be forever.

 

Small white flakes began to fall from the sky. Misty turned her head skywards as if in a silent prayer. The first snowflakes touch her pointed nose, tickling the skin there. Her cheeks grew rose tint like small pink pebbles. She let out a heavy breath, hot air rising up above. 

 

"Misty dear, let's go," Myrtle called with one hand still on her walking stick and her other extended through the snowflakes towards the wild blonde. Blue eyes opened and she looked at the only one she had left. She couldn't explain the feeling of loss and emptiness through her mouth, or her eyes. Losing someone is such a profound thing that simply no one has enough words to describe what the feeling was like. 

 

"I just..." Misty murmured, taking the red gloves in her own hands. The rest of her words found no place to come out. Ever since Cordelia died, cold hands became a problem of the past. These things felt like nothing when you compared it to just wanting to get the most important things back.

 

Pain had become a friend of the present, past and future. It overtook the gaps her family had left in her life, filling her so full. 

 

She helped the elderly redhead into the car, putting the walking stick right next to Myrtle as she prepared to close the door. 

 

A gust of wind guided her head to turn towards the back where the end of the road was. 

 

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of her swollen eyes through the reflection on the car windows. She watched herself until her image melted away and showed her something else. An older, sadder version. A version without anything more to lose apart from herself. 

 

Those years ago when a man asked her, "You okay, though, rite' lady? You not gonna' kill yourself tonight, rite'?"

 

Today, she would have been brave enough to say, “I have thought ‘bout that.” She would’ve stopped and thought about all the things that had happened. And then she would have dashed out of the road just like Cordelia had. A last  _ sick _ move, a desperate attempt to be closer to Cordelia. But she wouldn’t– at least not when Myrtle was still around. 

 

Myrtle was the one last thread holding her away from certain death. But even Myrtle would be reduced to bones one day and when that wretched day came, who would be her final savior? 

 

Alas, her head turned in the direction against the wind, towards the end of the road. She closed her eyes tightly, pretending that Cordelia would once again appear around the horizon where she would wave, and she would call out to Misty. She dared not let her imagination run too far. She could not possibly let her heart tear apart once again. The wind kept blowing and blowing.

 

She reminded herself that she was lucky to have any time at all with Cordelia. Her lips pursed together, stopping them for quivering but a trembling overtook her chin and now her eyelashes swatted peacefully as her eyes began to flutter open.

 

Blue eyes searched for one last look at the ghosts of her people and where Cordelia would have stood, the earth lit up in balls of flames.

 

**_Fin._ **

 


End file.
